, his senses seemed to trail off giddily every now and then,
and he'd find himself lying flat and still beside the track. It was a
white, drawn face that Toddles lifted up each time he started on
again--miserably white, except where the blood kept trickling from his
forehead.

And then Toddles' heart, stout as it was, seemed to snap. He had
reached the station platform, wondering vaguely why the little building
that loomed ahead was dark--and now it came to him in a flash, as he
recognized the station. It was Cassil's Siding--_and there was no
night man at Cassil's Siding_! The switch lights were lit before the
day man left, of course. Everything swam before Toddles' eyes.
There--there was no help here. And yet--yet perhaps--desperate hope
came again--perhaps there might be. The pain was terrible--all over
him. And--and he'd got so weak now--but it wasn't far to the door.

Toddles squirmed along the platform, and reached the door finally--only
to find it shut and fastened. And then Toddles fainted on the
threshold.

When Toddles came to himself again, he thought at first that he was up
in the despatcher's room at Big Cloud with Bob Donkin pounding away on
the battered old key they used to practise with--only there seemed to
be something the matter with the key, and it didn't sound as loud as it
usually did--it seemed to come from a long way off somehow. And then,
besides, Bob was working it faster than he had ever done before when
they were practising. "Hold second"--second something--Toddles
couldn't make it out. Then the "seventeen"--yes, he knew that--that
was the life and death. Bob was going pretty quick, though. Then
"CS--CS--CS"--Toddles' brain fumbled a bit over that--then it came to
him. CS was the call for Cassil's Siding. _Cassil's Siding_!
Toddles' head came up with a jerk.

A little cry burst from Toddles' lips--and his brain, cleared. He
wasn't at Big Cloud at all--he was at Cassil's Siding--and he was
hurt--and that was the sounder inside calling, calling frantically for
Cassil's Siding---where he was.

The life and death--_the seventeen_--it sent a thrill through Toddles'
pain-twisted spine. He wriggled to the window. It, too, was closed,
of course, but he could hear better there. The sounder was babbling
madly.

"Hold second----"

He missed it again--and as, on top of it, the "seventeen" came
pleading, frantic, urgent, he wrung his hands.

"Hold second"--he got it this tim