I returned once more to the operating room, in a more contented frame of mind, and with a keener appreciation of the comfortable temperature within.  A few minutes after one o’clock, the telegraph instrument, which had been silent for some time, suddenly woke to life and commenced imperiously ticking the call of our station.  My friend answered, and received from the dispatcher at Winnipeg a crossing order for a west-bound passenger train and an east-bound engine.  Our station signal was displayed, and once more we commenced our weary wait for the two iron horses, which were ploughing their way across the wild prairie to meet and cross each other at our station, and then continue their wild journey.

Two o’clock.  Still no sign of the trains.  We both fell asleep in our chairs.

I seemed scarcely to have closed my eyes when I was startled by the shriek of the east-bound locomotive.  I glanced at the clock; it was 3.30.  I looked at my companion.  He seemed frozen with deadly fear.  The next instant he jumped wildly to his feet, rushed to the door, and gazed out into the blinding storm after the engine.  It was nowhere in sight.  I looked anxiously at him as he tore back into the room, and with trembling hands called the dispatcher’s office.

Perspiration was pouring down his face.  He could hardly stand.  Promptly the instrument ticked back the return call.

“Where is the passenger train?” queried our office.  The reply was terrible.  “Left for your station three minutes ago.  Have you put the engine on the side track?” Back went the answer:  “The engine has rushed past the station and has not waited for her crossing.”

“My God!” replied the dispatcher, “the two trains will meet.”

My companion sank on the chair.  His face was ghostly.

“It will be a terrible accident,” he said aloud, but to himself—­he seemed to have forgotten me in his great terror.

“God help them!  God help them!” he reiterated.  The situation was so fearful to me that I could only sit and look spell-bound at my friend.  The furious storm made the horror of the situation tenfold more unendurable.

It seemed to me that I had been sitting in this trance-like condition for hours, when I was roused by hearing an engine give a certain number of whistles, which indicated it wanted the switch opened.  The next moment a man rushed into the office.  “Open the switch quick!” he shouted, “the passenger train will be here in two minutes.”  It was the driver of the engine!  My companion sprang joyously to his feet.  Without asking a question he ran out into the yard, followed by the engineer.

A few minutes later they both returned.  The mystery was soon explained by the driver.  He had forgotten the order which had been wired to him, and which he had put in his pocket when he received it, over two hours before, away up the line.  He probably would have remembered it when he passed our station had he seen any signal displayed, but he had rushed past.  He must have been two miles past the station when, putting his hand into his coat pocket to get his pipe, he felt the peculiar paper upon which crossing orders are written.  Like a flash the order to cross with the passenger train at our station came back to his memory.