he
train came running by and paused to thrust his head in at the open
doorway to explain.

"Engine's broken her coupling-rod, sir--just before we came to the
viaduct. Mercy for us she didn't leave the rails."

"Mercy indeed, as you say," Mr. Molesworth assented. "I suppose we shall
be hung up here until they send a relief down?"

The guard--Mr. Molesworth knew him as 'George' by name, and by habit
constantly polite--turned and waved his flag hurriedly, in acknowledgment
of the shouting ahead, before answering--

"You may count on half an hour's delay, sir. Lucky it's no worse.
You'll excuse me--they're calling for me down yonder."

He ran on, and Mr. Molesworth stepped out upon the platform, of which this
end was already deserted, all the passengers having alighted and hurried
forward to inspect the damaged engine. A few paces beyond the door he met
the station-master racing back to despatch a telegram.

"It seems that we've had a narrow escape," said Mr. Molesworth.

The station-master touched his hat and plunged into his office.
Mr. Molesworth, instead of joining the crowd around the engine, halted
before a small pile of luggage on a bench outside the waiting-room and
absent-mindedly scanned the labels.

Among the parcels lay a fishing-rod in a canvas case and a wicker creel,
the pair of them labelled and bearing the name of an acquaintance of his--
a certain Sir Warwick Moyle, baronet and county magistrate, beside whom he
habitually sat at Quarter Sessions.

"I had no idea," Mr. Molesworth mused, "that Moyle was an angler.
It would be a fair joke, anyway, to borrow his rod and fill up the time.--
How long before the relief comes down?" he asked, intercepting the
station-master as he came rushing out from his office and slammed the door
behind him.

"Maybe an hour, sir, before we get you started again. I can't honestly
promise you less than forty minutes."

"Very well, then: I'm going to borrow Sir Warwick's rod, there, and fill
up the time," said Mr. Molesworth, pointing at it.

The station-master apparently did not hear; at any rate he passed on
without remonstrance. Mr. Molesworth slung the creel over his shoulder,
picked up the rod, and stepped out beyond the station gateway upon the
road.

II.

The road ran through a cutting, sunless, cooled by many small springs of
water trickling down the rock-face, green with draperies of the
hart's-tongue and common polypody ferns; and emerged again