Then he stumbled down
the hill to the gulch bottom and started out to walk along the new spur
toward Little Butte station, limping painfully and feeling mechanically
in his pocket for his pipe, which had apparently been lost in some one
of the many swift and strenuous scene-shiftings.
XVIII
AT SILVER SWITCH
Like that of other railroad officials, whose duties constrain them to
spend much time in transit, Lidgerwood's desk-work went with him up and
down and around and about on the two divisions, and before leaving his
office in the Crow's Nest to go down to the waiting special, he had
thrust a bunch of letters and papers into his pocket to be ground
through the business-mill on the run to Little Butte.
It was his surreptitious transference of the rubber-banded bunch of
letters to the oblivion of the closed service-car desk, observed by Miss
Brewster, that gave the president's daughter an opportunity to make
partial amends for having turned his business trip into a car-party.
Before the special was well out of the Angels yard she was commanding
silence, and laying down the law for the others, particularizing Carolyn
Doty, though only by way of a transfixing eye.
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