Ferrett and Pelch took every moment they were given away from his presence to hie themselves over to his train carriage and try to saw through the wrought iron railing on his private observation deck. It was slow going. “I don’t think we’ve even made a dent, Mr. Pelch,” said Ferrett, wiping his forehead with a red bandanna he’d bought at a local mercantile. Ferrett had never owned a red bandanna before. It made him feel very Western. Pelch sighed and stared at the railing. “I’m afraid we’re going to need more saw blades, Mr. Ferrett.” Ferrett eyed the now-dull blade mournfully. “I believe you’re right, Mr. Pelch.” “I shall fetch them, Mr. Ferrett, if you will continue to saw.” “That’s a wonderful idea, Mr. Pelch. We still have two hours left to work before the devil wants us back.” “I’ll hurry, Mr. Ferrett.” “Thank you, Mr. Pelch.” They worked for hours and hours every day while Mulrooney rested. By the end of the fourth day, Ferrett believed he could see a tiny indentation where the saw blade had nicked the metal, but Pelch seemed dubious.
