An examination proved his assertion to be correct.  As soon as this became known, a danger light was hung at either end of the structure, and then we started running backward to Smalleyville.

“How long will this delay us?” I asked of the conductor as he came through, explaining matters.

“I can’t tell.  Perhaps only a few hours, perhaps more.  It depends on how soon the wrecking gang arrive on the spot.  As soon as they get there, they will go right to work, and it won’t take them long to fix matters up.”

Smalleyville proved to be a small town of not over five hundred inhabitants.  There was quite an excitement around the depot when the train came in, and despatches were sent in various directions.

Presently a shower came up, and this drove the passengers to the cars and the station.  I got aboard the train at first to listen to what the train hands might have to say.  I found one of the brakemen quite a friendly fellow, and willing to talk.

“This rain will make matters worse,” said he.  “That tree was leaning against the bridge for all it was worth, and if it loosens any more it will carry the thing away clean.”

“Isn’t there danger of trains coming from the other way?”

“Not now.  We’ve telegraphed to Chicago, and no train will leave till everything is in running order.”

“When does the next train arrive behind us?”

“At 9.30 this morning.”

We chatted for quite a while.  Then there was a commotion on the platform, and we found that part of the wrecking gang had arrived on a hand-car.

They brought with them a great lot of tools, and soon a flat car with a hoisting machine was run out of a shed, and they were off.

By this time it was raining in torrents, and the station platform was deserted.  Not caring to get wet, I again took my seat in the car, and presently fell asleep.

When I awoke I found it was six o’clock.  The rain still fell steadily, without signs of abating.

I was decidedly hungry, and buttoning my coat up tightly about my neck, I sallied forth in search of a restaurant.

I found one within a block of the depot, and entering, I called for some coffee and muffins—­ first, however, assuring myself that my train was not likely to leave for fully an hour.

While busy with what the waiter had brought, I saw Mr. Allen Price enter.  Luckily the table I sat at was full, and he was compelled to take a seat some distance from me.

“Good morning, my young friend,” said he, as he stopped for an instant in front of me.

I was surprised at his pleasant manner.  He acted as if nothing had ever happened to bring up a coolness between us.

“Good morning,” I replied briefly.

“Terrible rain, this, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“My toothache’s much better,” he went on, “and I feel like myself once more.  Funny I mistook your valise for mine, last night, wasn’t it?”