The signalman was sitting on a chair tilted back against the wall.

His head leaned sideways, and his mouth was open.

He was fast asleep.
"My hat!" cried Peter; "wake up!" And he cried it in a terrible voice, for he knew that if a signalman sleeps on duty, he risks losing his situation, let alone all the other dreadful risks to trains which expect him to tell them when it is safe for them to go their ways.
The signalman never moved.

Then Peter sprang to him and shook him.

And slowly, yawning and stretching, the man awoke.