"Following order was sent Byers Junction at 5.50: 'Eng. 315, special west, will meet extra east, eng. 618, at Byers Junction.' Operator at Byers, initial N., repeated this, and it was O. K.'d, so that train was fully covered and should have been protected. Useless to deny that order was received." Allan had turned as white as a sheet, and his hands were trembling convulsively as he opened the key. "Will investigate and report in a moment," he answered, and then turned to the trainmaster, his eyes dark with horror. "You heard?" he asked. The trainmaster nodded, and his face, too, was very grave. "You're sure there was no such order?" he inquired. "I came on at 6.40," said Allan, "and went over all the orders on the hook very carefully. I'm sure there was no such order there," and he motioned toward the "flimsies" which hung on the wall beside the window. Mr. Schofield took down the hook and began to go slowly over the orders. In a moment, a sharp exclamation broke from him. "What is it?" asked Allan, a sudden horrible fear seizing his heart and seeming to crush it. The trainmaster detached from the hook one of the sheets of tissue-paper, and spread it out before him, his face very stern. "'Engine 315,'" he read, "'special west, will meet extra east, engine 618, at Byers Junction.'" Then he leaned back in his chair and gazed at Allan with accusing eyes. CHAPTER XIV TO THE RESCUE For an instant, Allan scarcely understood. He sat as one stunned by a terrific blow. Then the truth burst upon him like a lightning-flash. He had overlooked the order; two of the flimsy pieces of tissue-paper had stuck together, and he had not perceived it! The accident, had it occurred, would have been his fault; that it did not occur was due to no act of his, but to some mysterious, unexplainable Providence. Morally, he was as guilty as though the trains had dashed together at full speed. Even now, because of his carelessness, they might have been one piled-up mass of twisted iron and splintered wood, with a score of human beings buried in the wreckage. The utter horror of the thought turned him a little dizzy. Then he arose, and took down his coat. "What are you going to do?" demanded the trainmaster, who had been watching him closely. "There's only one thing for me to do, isn't there?" asked Allan, with a wan little smile. "That is to get out. I see I'm not fit for anything better than section-work, after all. I'll ask Jack Welsh for my old job--that is, if the road will have me." "Sit down," commanded Mr. Schofield, sternly. He saw how overwrought the boy was. "There's no use jumping at conclusions. Besides, you've got to stay your trick out here, no matter how guilty you are. There's your call now," he added, as the key sounded. Allan answered it mechanically, took down the message, repeated it, and had it O. K.'d. By the time that was done, he had partially regained his self-control.