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At length his progress was blocked by the wreckage of several freight-cars which were strewn across the tracks in shattered fragments. Negro laborers were clearing away this amazing disorder, which could have been caused by no ordinary collision. In answer to Walter's questions one of them said:

"Dynamite, boss. A car got afire down by de ship, sah, an' de mens tuk all de dynamite out 'cept two boxes. An' when dey was runnin' de car up here in de yard to fotch it away from de wharf, she done 'splode herself to glory."

"Anybody killed?"

"Two mens, sah, an' some more is in de hospitubble."

"Too bad, but there is something doing here," said Walter to himself. "This is a hurry-up job, and perhaps they can use another man."

Climbing over the débris, he accosted a lean, brick-red American with a fighting jaw who was driving the wrecking-crews at top speed.

"I am not the superintendent," was the impatient reply, "but I'll save you the trouble of looking him up. He is taking no more men on the gold roll. The railroad has been laying people off."