"Vell," he said, "dot night it snows, undt I start home again at five o’clock. It’s dark undt the snow fly so I gan’t hardly see der svitch lights. But I gom’ across der tracks yust like I always do goming home--dot’s the shortest way I gom’, you know--undt I ben purty tired, undt my tamned old rheumatiz’ he’s raisin’ hell for t’ree days because dot storm’s comin’--vell, I gom’ along beside dere segond track over dere, undt I see an engine, but he’s goin’ on dot main track, so I gets over--vell, de snow’s fallin’ undt I gan’t see very well, undt somehow dot svitch-engine gom’ over on der segond track, undt I chump to get away, but my foot he’s caught in der frog--vell, I gan’t move, but I bent vay over to one side--so"--the old man strained himself over the arm of his chair to illustrate--"undt der svitch-engine yust cut off my foot nice undt glean. Vell, dot’s all der was aboudt it." Marriott gave a little shudder; in a flash he had a vision of Koerner there in the wide switch-yard with its bewildering red and green lights, the snow filling the air, the gloom of the winter twilight, his foot fast in the frog, bending far over to save his body, awaiting the switch-engine as it came stealing swiftly down on him. "Did the engine whistle or ring its bell?" "No," said the old man. "And the frog--that was unblocked?" Koerner leaned toward Marriott with a cunning smile. "Dot’s vere I got ’em, aind’t it? Dot frog he’s not blocked dere dot time; der law say dey block dose frog all der time, huh?" "Yes, the frog must be blocked. But how did your foot get caught in the frog?" "Vell, I shlipped, dot’s it. I gan’t see dot frog. You ask Charlie Drake; he’s dere--he seen it." "What does he do?" asked Marriott as he scribbled the name on an old envelope. "He’s a svitchman in der yard; he tol’ you all aboudt it; he seen it--he knows. He say to me, ’Reinhold, you get damage all right; dot frog haind’t blocked dot time.’" Just then the kitchen door opened and Gusta came in. When she saw Marriott and Ward, she stopped and leaned against the door; her face, ruddy from the cool air, suddenly turned a deeper red. "Oh, Mr. Dick!" she said, and then she looked at Marriott, whom she had seen and served so often at the Wards’. "How do you do, Gusta?" said Marriott, getting up and taking her hand. She flushed deeper than ever as she came forward, and her blue eyes sparkled with pleasure. Dick, too, rose and took her hand. "Hello, Gusta," he said, "how are you?" "Oh, pretty well, Mr. Dick," she answered. She stood a moment, and then quietly began to unbutton her jacket and to draw the pins from her hat. Marriott, who had seen her so often at the Wards’, concluded as she stood there before him that he had never realized how beautiful she was. She removed her wraps, then drew up a chair by her father and sat down, lifting her hands and smoothing the coils of her golden hair, touching them gently.