scenes of actual suffering, as yet, they were held up by such happenings as bridges washed away, or made unsafe, tracks undermined by the rain, and landslides covering the rails.
So they were two days longer on the road than otherwise they would have been. Relief trains, too, had the right of way, and even the regular passenger trains were held back, or switched to other tracks, while the cars laden with soldiers and supplies were rushed forward.
Mr. Ringold fretted and fumed at the delay, but there was no help for it. Those suffering must be cared for first.
"We ought to be at Hannibal to-morrow," said the manager, one night, as the sleeping berths were being made up. "Then we can start in, and do something. I only hope we can find them," he added, referring to his lost company.
Joe and Blake had sections opposite each other, and, after talking across the aisle in low tones for a few minutes, they dropped off to sleep.
It was past midnight when Blake thought he felt someone fumbling at the curtains of his berth.
"That you, Joe?" he asked, sleepily.
"What's that?" inquired his chum, evidently also just awakened.
