"Do you know the number of that outside wire on the lower cross-arm?" he asked the trainmaster. "Yes--fifteen--" "Can you cut it in?" "Of course--but what--" "No matter--do it!" cried Allan, and sat down at the key, while the trainmaster went mechanically to the switchboard and pushed the proper plug into place. "J--J--J!" Allan called. "J--J--J!" Would Jim hear? Was he within call of his instrument? Perhaps he was in some other part of the house; perhaps he was not at home at all. Even if he were, how would he be able-- Then, suddenly, the circuit was broken, and as Allan held down his key, there came the welcome tick-tick, tick-tick, which told that Jim had answered. "Flag Number Two!" Allan's hand was trembling so that he could scarcely control the key. "R--R," clamoured Jim. "Repeat--repeat!" Small wonder that he doubted he had heard correctly! "Flag Number Two--quick--collision!" This time Allan controlled the trembling of his hand and sent the message clearly. "O. K.," flashed back the answer, and Jim was gone, forgetting in his agitation to close his key. "Who is it?" demanded Mr. Schofield, who had listened to this interchange with strained attention. "It's Jim Anderson," Allan explained. "He lives in that house right by the track about a mile west of here. He and I rigged up a private line--Mr. Mickey let us use that old wire. Perhaps he'll be in time." "Perhaps--perhaps," agreed the trainmaster; but he did not permit himself to hope. The chance was too slender. How was the boy to flag the train? How could he make the engineer see him through that driving snow? It was absurd to suppose it could be done. "I think we'd better order out the wrecking-train," he said, to the chief-dispatcher. "Call up a couple of doctors, too; we'll probably need them; and tell the hospital to have its ambulance at the station here before we get back. As for that fool who made the mistake--" He stopped abruptly. For, in the driving snow, the mistake was not so surprising, after all--the flyer was running ten minutes late, and the freight had come in exactly on her time--two facts with which the crew of the extra west could not have been familiar. "Perhaps he's paid for it with his life by now," added the trainmaster, after a moment, and started toward the telephone to order the wrecking-train got ready. Then, suddenly, he stopped, rigid with expectancy, for the instrument on the table in front of Allan had begun to sound. "A--A," it called. "A--A." "Tick-tick, tick-tick," Allan answered, instantly. "I have Number Two, also extra west stopped here," came the message. "What shall they do?" "I guess I'll have to turn this over to you, sir," said Allan, looking at Mr. Schofield, his eyes bright with emotion. "Don't send too fast," he added, with a little, unsteady laugh, as the trainmaster took the key. "Neither Jim nor I is very expert, you know." CHAPTER VI A PRIVATE LINE