* * * * *
Allan, meanwhile, continued on to his office, and sat thoughtfully down
before his desk. The incident of the evening, his own narrow escape,
enlightened him as to the danger of the situation. Calm as it appeared
on the surface, it was perilous enough underneath, like a vast bed of
lava, apparently cool and firm, but ready, at any pin-prick, to burst
forth into white-hot flame. He shivered a little at thought of the days
to follow and the problems they would present.
But after a moment he shook such thoughts impatiently away. Time enough
to cross a bridge when he came to it. Now there were other matters
demanding his attention. For, as the night progressed, the load of sleet
burdened the wires more and more heavily, until some gave way and the
others sputtered and stuttered and sent operators and dispatchers alike
to the verge of frenzy.
Nothing disorganizes a railroad more quickly than impeded or inefficient
wires, for the reason that its operation depends wholly upon its
telegraph system. To interfere with that means inevitably to interfere
with traffic, to obstruct it is to obstruct traffic, and to stop it is
to stop traffic, or to compel it, at best, to creep painfully along from
station to station with one flagman walking in front of every train and
another following it a hundred yards in the rear. It may be added that
it was the telegraph which made modern railroading possible; and that it
becomes impossible at the moment when the dispatcher at headquarters
cannot, in some way, keep informed of the position of every train.
So to-night with the wires chattering unintelligible nonsense instead of
the usual crisp orders and reports, operators and dispatchers were at
their wits’ ends, traffic was delayed, the schedule abandoned and the
only hope was that some way, somehow, they would get through the night
without accident.
Allan stood for a moment at the door of the dispatchers’ office
listening to the crazy instruments.
“I’ve only got one wire left,” announced the dispatcher in charge of the
Parkersburg division, “and I might as well try to send a message over a
piece of clothes line as over it. I haven’t any idea where that extra
west is. It left Vigo half an hour ago, and hasn’t been seen since.”
“Where’s Number Two?” asked Allan.
“Number Two will be here in four or five minutes,” answered the other
dispatcher.
“And that freight ought to have been here ten minutes ago!” wailed the
first speaker. “Oh, its enough to drive a man crazy,” and he went on
calling Schooley’s.
The east bound flyer could not, of course, be permitted to leave
Wadsworth until the west-bound freight had pulled in, or had been
definitely located. It was lost as completely as though it had wandered
away to the farthest corner of the globe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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