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RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER
chained to the chair momentarily in a kind of a dread stupor.
A flagman across the rails was yelling up at him. He had witnessed Ralph's sensational proceedings, and was staring at the broken window panes. Ralph did not hear him.
Instead, his ears were filled with a grinding on the north rails. Tearing down them, swaying from side to side, shrieking out constantly for clear tracks, a locomotive with one car attached reached the far depot end and went its length like a flash of light.
"The special!" breathed Ralph,—"on time!"
