he called her a foul name, and clung to the swaying window rail at the other side of the cab, "and let her blow up when she damn please."
Web clamped his jaw, and again shut off the injector to allow her to pick up. Then his hand shot out to the whistle lever, and her sudden shriek tore a hole in the silence of the prairie night.
"What in hell d'you mean by that?" cried the other man, leaping forward, white with rage.
"But that's orders."
"You take your orders from me, this time! I don't want that whole town swarming down to the track, you fool!"
Web watched the switch light dance and swim up to them. He stood ready, waiting.
It was the unexpected that happened. He could feel the pound of the switch point, the quick lurch and swing. In another moment he expected to feel the shuddering thud of his wheels on the sleepers. Instead of that a mass of steel tore whistling through the left-hand side of the cab, carrying away iron and woodwork as it went. Then came another; a