CHAPTER XXXIII
Hand-car
WELL!" Mr. Barcus broke a silence whose eloquence may not be translated in print. "Can you beat it?"
"Not with this outfit," Alan admitted gloomily.
"But, damn it! We've got to!"
"Profanity—even yours, my friend—won't make this Pullman move without an engine."
"All the same we can't stop here waiting for that gang of things to return in the light engine and cut our blessed throats."
Mr. Law answered this unanswerable contention only with a shrug. Then, stepping out on the forward platform of the Pullman, he cast a hopeless eye over the landscape. Then he lowered his gaze to the tracks and siding—and started sharply.
"Eh, what now?" Barcus inquired.
"Some thoughtful body has left an old hand-car over there in the ditch," Alan replied. "Maybe it isn't beyond service—looks as if it might work. Come along and lend me a hand."
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