Martin Duffy sprang straight up in the air. Once he shut his lifted hands; once he looked at Giddings, staggering again through the frightful news, then he dropped into the chair, looked wildly around, seized his key like a hunted man, stared at his train sheet, grabbed the order book, and listened to Giddings cutting off one hope after another of stopping Special 326. His fingers set mechanically and he made the Rat River call; but Rat River was silent. With Barnes Tracy tiptoeing in behind on the instinct of trouble, and young Giddings shaking like a leaf, the Chief called Rat River. Then he called Elcho, asked for Special 326, and Elcho again repeated steadily: "Special--326--left--here--on--Order--79--at--seven-fifty-five P. M." Martin Duffy bent before the message; young Giddings, who had been whispering to Tracy, dropped on a stool and covered his face. "Don't cry, Giddings." It was Duffy who spoke; dry and parched his voice. "It's nothing you--could help." He looked around and saw Tracy at his elbow. "Barnes," he said, but he tried twice before his voice would carry. "Barnes--they will meet in the Cinnamon cut. Giddings told you? Bob forgot, forgot my order. Run, Giddings, for Benedict Morgan and Doubleday and Carhart--_quick!_" Giddings ran, the Rat River call echoing again down the hall behind him. Rat River was closest to Rock Point--would get the first news of the wreck, and Martin Duffy was calling his recreant brother at the River; but the River was silent. Doubleday and the company surgeon, Dr. Carhart, rushed into the room almost together. Then came with a storm the wrecking boss, Benedict Morgan; it was only an evil hour that brought Benedict Morgan into the despatchers' office. Stooped and silent, Martin Duffy, holding the chair, was calling Rat River. Carhart watched him just a moment, then he took Barnes Tracy aside and whispered--and, going back, bent over Duffy. The Chief pulled himself up. "Let Tracy take the key," repeated the doctor. "Get away from the table a minute, Martin. It may not be as bad as you think." Duffy, looking into the surgeon's face, put his hand on his arm. "It's the De Molay train, the Special 326, with Bucks's car, double-headed. Oh, my God--I can't stop them. Doctor, they will meet!" Carhart unfastened the fingers on his arm. "Come away a minute. Let Tracy have the key," he urged. "A head-ender, eh?" croaked Benedict Morgan from the counter, and with a frightful oath. "A head-ender!" "Shut up, you brute!" hissed Carhart. Duffy's hands were creeping queerly up the sides of his head. "Sure," growled Benedict Morgan, loweringly, "sure. Shut up. Of course. Shut up."