The responsibility of his position was beginning to oppress him. Heretofore there had always been somebody higher up with whom, in any unusual emergency, he could consult. Now, he was thrown entirely upon his own resources, and an emergency might arise at any moment which might involve much more than the welfare of the road. Human life might be involved, and law and order—all these might hinge upon a single word, the decision of a moment. If only it might be given him to speak the right word, to decide wisely! He trembled inwardly at thought of the crisis he might be called upon to face. “I’ve got to go back,” he said, at last, pushing back his chair. “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he added, “so don’t wait up for me.” “I’ll go with you,” said Jack, catching a telegraphic glance from Mamie and hastily gulping down his coffee. “I want to take a look around an’ see how things are.” “All right,” said Allan, “come along,” and together they went out into the night. The wind had increased in violence and the weather was turning much colder. They needed all their breath, as they fought their way up the street against the wind. At the freight-shed, Allan paused for a word with one of the guards, who was stamping his feet and clapping his arms against his sides in an effort to keep warm. “Everything all right?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” answered the guard, recognizing his voice, “everything serene. Not a sign of trouble anywhere.” “That’s good,” said Allan, and started across the yards. “I’m goin’ to look around a while,” said Jack. “I’ll look you up in half an hour or so.” “All right,” said Allan, and continued on to his office, while Jack’s figure vanished instantly in the darkness. Jack had turned back toward the freight-house, intending to ask a few questions of the guard, but as he passed the platform at the lower end, a voice hailed him. “That you, Jack?” “Yes,” Welsh answered, peering around, “but where are you?” “Down here under the platform,” and as Jack stooped, the odour of tobacco smoke assailed his nostrils. “Oh, is it you, Reddy?” he asked. “Yes. Come under an’ set down.” Jack groped his way under and, guided by the glow of Reddy’s pipe, sat down beside him. The quarters were rather cramped, but the cold wind did not reach them and so they were fairly comfortable. “What you doin’ out here?” Jack demanded. “Oh,” said Reddy, “I got so tired lookin’ at them bums in there an’ listenin’ to their big mouths, that I jest had t’ git away by myself an’ have a quiet smoke. Did ye ever wash dishes?” “Oh, once in a while,” Jack answered, laughing, and getting out his pipe to keep Reddy company. “Well, it’s a mighty poor way t’ earn a livin’,” said the latter. “If it wasn’t fer Allan, I’d a-thrown up the job afore I took it—but they’s goin’ t’ be trouble.” “There is? When?” “Most any time. Them fellers can’t do without whiskey any more’n you kin do without air. They’re havin’ a meetin’ about it now.” “They are? What for?”