serious, but there would be a report, an investigation, and somebody would be blamed and punished. Ralph wanted to keep a clear slate, and here was a bad break, right at the threshold of his new railroad career.
All he thought of, however, were the delays, all he cared for at this particular moment was to get back to the main tracks on his way for Bridgeport, with a chance to make up lost time. A sudden vague suspicion flashing through his mind added to his mental disquietude: was there a plot to purposely cripple or delay his train, so that he would be defeated in his efforts to make a record run?
"What's this tangle, Fairbanks?" shouted out the conductor sharply, as he arrived breathless and excited at the side of the cab.
His name was Danforth, and he was a model employee of long experience, always very neat and dressy in appearance and exact and systematic in his work. Any break in routine nettled him, and he spoke quite censuringly to the young engineer, whom, however, he liked greatly.
"I'm all at sea, Mr. Danforth," confessed Ralph bluntly.
"Any damage?—I see," muttered the conductor, going forward a few steps and surveying the scratched, bruised face of the locomotive.
