Suddenly he thought of the other lever close by the one he had moved. What was that for? The lever which had manipulated the gates was of another pattern and away from these two. What was this other one for? If he pushed it over would it undo what he had done? Were the two movements of the switch controlled by the two levers? Maybe, for there was no other switch. Yet there might be another somewhere. Should he take a chance and push over this other lever? Oh, if Townsend would only come. If _Townsend would only come_! He put his small hand on the other lever and took it off again. He knelt again to see if he could feel any cogwheels or anything through the grooves in which the levers moved. Oh, if he only had a light and could see. If he could _only see_! He stood up, the perspiration standing in beads on his face, his throat throbbing from the quick, agitated breaths, almost insane with the feeling of utter powerlessness and of maddening suspense. It seemed as if he had unhinged the universe. At every innocent sound of the night he started. Oh, if Townsend would only— Suddenly he stood stark still, struck with unspeakable fright, his hands and face icy cold, as he heard again the distant whistle of a train. Where was it? Far or near? The country was so vast and sound travels so in the night and echoes and re-echoes among hills and valleys! Where was it. Was it coming? Trembling, he groped his way to the window closest to the tracks... And then, _just then_, the panic-stricken boy disappeared, and in his place there was Walter Harris, scout of the first class, First Bridgeboro, New Jersey, Troop, B. S. A., looking out of the window at something which lay between the shiny rails almost directly below him. It was what he had seen before, a little red spot, only now it was smaller. He was too agitated to shout his customary announcement that he had an inspiration, but that is what he had. He realized now, what he had not taken the trouble to think about before, that this tiny, luminous patch was a little pile of live coals dropped by the locomotive that had passed just as the flivver had reached the tracks. In the daylight he had not noticed it at all. In the dusk, when he had seen it before, it had been larger but less luminous. Now, in the surrounding blackness, it looked like a little red ball. Perhaps, of that little pile, only one coal was still alive. And that would soon die out. As Pee-wee looked down one edge of the red spot seemed to straighten out as the fire left it. He thought that the tiny area of red was narrowing. Even as he looked it had ceased to be round.