“’Twas better this way, Jack, dear,” she said. “I’m so happy now t’ have y’ alive here talkin’ t’ me that it hardly seems you’ve met with an accident at all! See, we was jest gittin’ th’ Christmas tree ready; now you kin set there, with your foot up on a chair like this and boss th’ job. It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good; and I’m glad fer your own sake. Now you won’t have to go out in th’ storm.” But, at the words, the foreman’s face suddenly changed. “Good heavens!” he cried. “I fergot! Th’ track has t’ be patrolled. Somebody has t’ go,” and he raised himself in his chair, but fell back with a groan. “No use,” he muttered, between his clenched teeth. “To-night, too, when th’ pay-car’ll most probably come through! Allan, you’ll have t’ run over t’ th’ train-master, an’ git him t’ send somebody else.” “Mr. Schofield went to Cincinnati this morning, I think,” answered Allan. “I saw him getting on the train as I came in from the road.” “O’ course!” cried Jack, fiercely. “He’s gone down t’ come back with th’ pay-car. Well, hunt up th’ chief despatcher, then; somebody’s got t’ patrol that track.” Without a word, Allan donned the foreman’s rubber coat and great hat. Then he picked up the heavy club and the red signal-lantern, which was standing, still lighted, on the table, where one of the men had placed it. “What y’ goin’ t’ do with that?” demanded Jack, eying the boy uneasily. “Y’ don’t need that to go to th’ depot with.” “No,” said Allan, smiling, “but you see, I’m not going to the depot. I’m going to take your trick.” “No, you ain’t!” cried the other, fiercely. “Yes, I am. There’s nobody else to be got at this time of night; besides, you said yourself there’s no danger.” Jack looked at him a moment doubtfully. “No, I don’t think there is,” he said at last. “But it’s a bad night.” “Pooh!” and Allan whirled his club disdainfully. “Not a drop of water can get to me in this rig,” he added, echoing Jack’s words. “Anyway,” said the latter, hesitatingly, “y’ll be back in three hours, an’ you kin sleep late in the mornin’. I don’t see no other way,” he added, with a sigh. “All right,” said Allan; “good-bye,” and went to the door. But Mrs. Welsh ran after him, threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. “You’re a good boy, Allan,” she cried, half-sobbing. “I’ll have a good hot meal fer you when y’ git back.” Allan laughed. “I’ll be ready for it. Be sure to make a good job of that Christmas tree! Good-bye,” and he opened the door and strode out into the night. CHAPTER XVII. A NIGHT OF DANGER