Toddles looked up the track--west--where he had come from--to where the switch light twinkled green at him--and, with a little sob, he started to drag himself back along the platform. If he could throw the switch, it would throw the light from green to red, and--and the Limited would take the siding. But the switch was a long way off. Toddles half fell, half bumped from the end of the platform to the right of way. He cried to himself with low moans as he went along. He had the heart of a fighter, and grit to the last tissue; but he needed it all now--needed it all to stand the pain and fight the weakness that kept swirling over him in flashes. On he went, on his hands and knees, slithering from tie to tie---and from one tie to the next was a great distance. The life and death, the despatcher's call--he seemed to hear it yet--throbbing, throbbing on the wire. On he went, up the track; and the green eye of the lamp, winking at him, drew nearer. And then suddenly, clear and mellow through the mountains, caught up and echoed far and near, came the notes of a chime whistle ringing down the gorge. Fear came upon Toddles then, and a great sob shook him. That was the Limited coming now! Toddles' fingers dug into the ballast, and he hurried--that is, in bitter pain, he tried to crawl a little faster. And as he crawled, he kept his eyes strained up the track--she wasn't in sight yet around the curve--not yet, anyway. Another foot, only another foot, and he would reach the siding switch--in time--in plenty of time. Again the sob--but now in a burst of relief that, for the moment, made him forget his hurts. He was in time! He flung himself at the switch lever, tugged upon it--and then, trembling, every ounce of remaining strength seeming to ooze from him, he covered his face with his hands. It was _locked_--padlocked. Came a rumble now--a distant roar, growing louder and louder, reverberating down the cañon walls--louder and louder--nearer and nearer. "Hold second Number Two. Hold second Number Two"--the "seventeen," the life and death, pleading with him to hold Number Two. And she was coming now, coming--and--and--the switch was locked. The deadly nausea racked Toddles again; there was nothing to do now--nothing. He couldn't stop her--couldn't stop her. He'd--he'd tried--very hard--and--and he couldn't stop her now. He took his hands from his face, and stole a glance up the track, afraid almost, with the horror that was upon him, to look. She hadn't swung the curve yet, but she would in a minute--and come pounding down the stretch at fifty miles an hour, shoot by him like a rocket to where, somewhere ahead, in some form, he did not know what, only knew that it was there, death and ruin and---- "_Use your head!_" snapped Donkin's voice to his consciousness.