Let down after the emergency, the Superintendent stood by his car. He was wet and cold, heavy-legged and heavy-eyed; he thought only of tumbling onto his cot. Then he noticed that one of the men who had been sent down from the Station was standing there wanting to speak to him. The fellow’s name was Mart; he was a fair enough swamper, but maybe not too good in the head.

“Well, what is it, Mart? Spill it!”

“Say, Supe, I got uh idea I just been a-figurin’. It’s these here damn cars causes all the trouble. Why don’t you get ’em to keep all the cars off the road? Then we can keep it nice and clean as anything all winter.”

13

The District Traffic Superintendent slept in a bed which had a telephone-set screwed into the panel at its head. That night he got under the blankets fairly early. When he was all settled and ready to go to sleep—just as a man might say his prayers—he reached for the telephone and talked with the office.

“How are things?” he asked.

“About the same,” said the assistant. “No trouble on the Los Angeles lines—nothing but rain down that way. A few failures on the Seattle lead, mostly around Shasta. But there’s been quite a bit of trouble on the Central—up on the Hump.”

“What’s been the matter?”

“Just a good big storm, I guess. There’s a lineman lost up there too—”

“Lost?”

“Well, hurt, I guess. But just disappeared so far. They’re out now looking for his truck.”

“That’s too bad! Yes, that’s bad. Hard on service too. Men get jittery—don’t work well when that sort of thing’s in the air. You’ll get through tonight all right; traffic will be light.”

“Oh, we’ll get through—barring accident.”

“Well, call me if you need me.”

The DTS settled himself to go to sleep. He could hear the steady spatter of rain outside; somewhere water was dropping and splashing loudly from a clogged roof-gutter. He knew that he would go to sleep immediately, and wake up at four to call the office again. His was a twenty-four-hour shift during storms. Then he was asleep.

14

Against all the long rampart of the Coast Range the storm was beating. Northward, and here and there upon the higher peaks, there was snow. Elsewhere was only the slanting rain, and low cloud above the ridges. Upon the Trinity Mountains (most orthodoxly christened) the storm beat; equally it beat upon those other mountains (un-Christianly named in half-altered pagan tongue) Bully Choop and Yolla Bolly.