The high wind, which was still blowing with undiminished force, had blown down a huge tree. It lay directly across the track, and barely missed the east-bound rails.
"Another foot, and she'd have tied up traffic both ways," said the brakeman who had warned the passengers of the approach of the express. "What you going to do, Jim?"
The engineer sighed heavily.
"Got to wait till it's sawed in pieces small enough for a gang to handle," he answered. "We've sent to Tippewa for a cross-cut saw. Take us from now till the first o' the month to saw that trunk with the emergency saws."
"Where's Tippewa?" called out an inquisitive passenger. "Any souvenirs there?"
"Sure. Indian baskets and that kind of truck," volunteered the young brakeman affably, as the engineer did not deign to answer. "'Bout a mile, maybe a mile and a half, straight up the track. We don't stop there. You'll have plenty of time, won't he, Jim?"
"We'll be here a matter of three hours or more," admitted the engineer.
"Let's walk to the town, Betty," suggested Bob. "We don't want to hang around here for three hours. All this country looks alike."
Apparently half the passengers had decided that a trip to the town promised a break in the
