“What’s that you say, Mr. Halkett?—­on the Western Division?  Whereabouts?” demanded the governor.

“Between Lossing and Skipjack siding—­if we haven’t passed the siding in the last two or three minutes.  I’ve been too busy to notice,” was the reply.

“And you say you were on the engine?  Why the devil didn’t you call your man down?”

“I knocked him down,” gritted the superintendent, savagely, “and I’d have beat his face in for him if there hadn’t been two of them.  It’s a plot of some kind, and Callahan knows what he is about.  He had me held up with a hammer till just a few minutes ago, and he’s running past stop-signals and over red lights like a madman!”

Bucks and Guilford exchanged convictions by the road of the eye, and the governor said: 

“This is pretty serious, Major.  Have you anything to suggest?” And without waiting for a reply he turned upon Halkett:  “Where is Mr. Hawk?”

“I don’t know.  I supposed he was in here with you.  Or maybe he’s out on the rear platform.”

The three of them went to the rear, passing the private secretary comfortably asleep in his wicker chair.  When they stepped out upon the recessed observation platform they found it empty.

“He must have suspected something and dropped off in the yard or at the shops,” said Halkett.  And at the saying of it he shrank back involuntarily and added:  “Ah!  Look at that, will you?”

The car had just thundered past another station, and Callahan had underrun one more stop-signal at full speed.  At the same instant Tischer’s headlight swung into view, half blinding them with its glare.

“What is that following us?” asked Bucks.

“It’s the fast mail,” said Halkett.

Guilford turned livid and caught at the hand-rail.

“S-s-say—­are you sure of that?” he gasped.

“Of course:  it was an hour and thirty-five minutes late, and we are on its time.”

“Then we can’t stop unless somebody throws us on a siding!” quavered the receiver, who had a small spirit in a large body.  “I told M’Tosh to give the mail orders to make up her lost time or I’d fire the engineer—­told him to cut out all the stops this side of Agua Caliente!”

“That’s what you get for your infernal meddling!” snapped Halkett.  In catastrophic moments many barriers go down; deference to superior officers among the earliest.

But the master spirit of the junto was still cool and collected.

“This is no time to quarrel,” he said.  “The thing to be done is to stop this train without getting ourselves ripped open by that fellow behind the headlight yonder.  The stop-signals prove that Hawk and the others are doing their best, but we must do ours.  What do you say, Halkett?”

“There is only one thing,” replied the superintendent; “we’ve got to make the Irishman run ahead fast enough and far enough to give us room to stop or take a siding.”