"The engineer didn't see the stop signal till he was right on it," answered the conductor, blandly. "Snow so thick, you know." And the passengers returned to their seats satisfied, and none of them ever knew how narrow their escape had been--for it is the policy of all railroads that the passengers are never to know of mistakes and dangers, if the knowledge can by any means be kept from them. However, the employees in the yards at Wadsworth had realized the mistake almost as soon as the dispatchers had--and there was quite a crowd waiting to greet the trains--a crowd which even yet did not understand how a terrible accident had been averted. It was not until the conductor of the flyer stepped off upon the platform and told the story in a few words, with voice carefully lowered lest some outsider should hear him, that they did understand; and even then, it was not as clear as it might have been until Tom Mickey came along and told how he had permitted the boys to use the old wire. As for the engineer of the freight, he dropped off his engine the moment it stopped, and hurried away to his home without even pausing to remove his overalls. Six hours later, he was boarding a train on the N. & W., to seek a job in the south. The conductor remained for the inquiry and tried to brazen it through, but the evidence showed that, instead of staying out in the storm to watch for the arrival of Number Two and give the engineer the signal to go ahead, he had told the latter to start as soon as the passenger pulled in, and had ensconced himself in his berth in the caboose and gone comfortably to sleep. So he, too, was informed that the P. & O. no longer required his services. * * * * * When Jim Anderson reported for work next morning, his foreman told him he was to go at once to the office of Mr. Heywood, the division superintendent. He obeyed the order with some inward trepidation, crossed the yards to the division headquarters, mounted the stairs, and knocked tremulously at the door of the superintendent's office. A voice bade him enter. He opened the door, and saw, sitting at a great desk, a small, dark, dapper man who was dictating at fever heat to a stenographer. He paused for an instant, looking inquiringly at Jim. "I'm Jim Anderson," said the boy. "My foreman told me--" The superintendent nodded. "That will do, Graves," he said to the stenographer. "Send young West in here at once." "Very well, sir," answered the stenographer, and went out. Mr. Heywood turned abruptly in the direction of his visitor. "So you're Jim Anderson?" he began. "Yes, sir." "It was you who flagged Number Two last night?" "Yes, sir." "Tell me about it." Jim told the story as briefly as he could. Allan came in before he had finished. "Now let's hear your story," added the superintendent, turning to Allan, and the latter related his share in the adventure.