The whistle shrieked the train slowed down, and with a final jerk stopped in front of a dilapidated Shed some twelve feet by eight, which looked as though it had made desperate efforts to live up to the title painted over the doorway, and had finally given it up in despair.

Donald Harrington hesitated an instant on the bottom step of the car, but the train was already in motion again, 80 that he had to jump off to avoid being carried along with it.

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