With difficulty he suppressed a grin. "I'll bet my immortal soul she
was peeking at me," he soliloquized. "Confound the luck! Another
meeting this afternoon would be embarrassing." Tactfully he resumed
his study of his feet, not even looking up when the caboose, after
gaining the main track, slid gently down the slight grade and was
coupled to the rear logging-truck. Out of the tail of his eye he
caught a glimpse of Colonel Pennington passing alongside the log-
train and entering the caboose; he heard the engineer shout to the
brakeman--who had ridden down from the head of the train to unlock
the siding switch and couple the caboose--to hurry up, lock the
switch, and get back aboard the engine.
"Can't get this danged key to turn in the lock," the brakeman shouted
presently. "Lock's rusty, and something's gone bust inside."
Minutes passed. Bryce's assumed abstraction became real, for he had
many matters to occupy his busy brain, and it was impossible for him
to sit idle without adverting to some of them. Presently he was
subconsciously aware that the train was moving gently forward; almost
immediately, it seemed to him, the long string of trucks had gathered
their customary speed; and then suddenly it dawned upon Bryce that
the train had started off without a single jerk--and that it was
gathering headway rapidly.
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