Lidgerwood began to grow uneasy. On the straight-line stretches the
following train appeared to be rushing onward to an inevitable rear-end
collision with the one-car special; and where the track swerved to right
or left around the hills, the pursuing smoke trail rose above the
intervening hill-shoulders near and threatening. With the parts of a
great machine whirling in unison and nicely timed to escape destruction,
a small accident to a single cog may spell disaster.

Lidgerwood left his chair and went again to consult the time-table. A
brief comparison of miles with minutes explained the effect without
excusing the cause. Train 201's schedule from the summit station to the
desert level was very fast; and Williams, nursing his hot box, either
could not, or would not, increase his lead.

At first, Lidgerwood, anticipating rebellion, was inclined to charge the
hazardous situation to intention on the part of his own train crew.
Having a good chance to lie out of it if they were accused, Williams and
Bradford might be deliberately trying the nerve of the new boss. The
presumption did not breed fear; it bred wrath, hot and vindictive. Two
sharp tugs at the signal-cord brought Bradford from the engine. The
memory of the conductor's gruff replies and easy impudence was fresh
enough to make Lidgerwood's reprimand harsh.

"Do you call this railroading?" he rasped, pointing backward to the
menace. "Don't you know that we are on 201's time?"

Bradford scowled in surly antagonism.

"That blamed hot box--" he began, but Lidgerwood cut him off short.