stretched himself out upon one of the seats and closed his eyes.

"May as well try to get a nap," he yawned. "There won't be much
chance on the steamer, if it blows like this."

Mr. Dunster said nothing. His face was set, his eyes were looking
somewhere beyond the confines of the saloon in which he was seated.
So they travelled for over an hour. The young man seemed to be
dozing in earnest when, with a succession of jerks, the train
rapidly slackened speed. Mr. Dunster let down the window. The
interior of the carriage was at once thrown into confusion. A
couple of newspapers were caught up and whirled around, a torrent
of rain beat in. Mr. Dunster rapidly closed the window and rang
the bell. The guard came in after a moment or two. His clothes
were shiny from the wet; raindrops hung from his beard.

"What is the matter?" Mr. Dunster demanded. "Why are we waiting
here?"

"There's a block on the line somewhere," the man replied. "Can't
tell where exactly. The signals are against us; that's all we
know at present."

They crawled on again in about ten minutes, stopped, and resumed
their progress at an even slower rate. Mr. Dunster once more
summoned the guard.

"Why are we travelling like this?" he asked impatiently. "We shall
never catch the boat."