Part 33 (1/2)

”Al,” said Jim slowly, ”can you fire an engine?”

”I guess so,” said I, seeing his meaning dimly. ”Why?”

”Al,” said he, as if stating the conclusion of a complicated calculation, ”we must run this train in alone!”

I saw his intent fully, and knew why he walked so resolutely up to the engine, now backed down to take us on again. Schwartz leaned out of his cab, a man of snow and ice. Ole stood with his shovel in his hand white and icy like his brother worker. Both had been drenched, as we had; but they had had no red-hot stove by which to sit; and buffeted by the blizzard and powdered by the snow, they had endured the benumbing cold of the hurricane-swept cab.

”Get down here, boys,” said Jim. ”I want to talk with you.”

Ole leaped lightly down, followed by Schwartz, who hobbled laboriously, stiffened with cold. Youth and violent labor had kept the fireman warm.

”Schwartz,” said Jim, ”there is a chance that we'll find the trestle weakened and dangerous. We'll stop and examine it if we have time, but if it is as close a thing as I think it will be, we propose to make a run for it and take chances. Barslow and I are the ones, and the only ones, who ought to do this, because we must make this connection. We can run the engine. You and Ole and Corcoran stay here. Mr. Kittrick will be along with another train in a few hours. Uncouple the caboose and we'll run on.”

Schwartz blew his nose with great deliberation.

”Ole,” said he, ”what d'ye think of the old man's scheme?”

”Ay tank,” said Ole, ”dat bane h.e.l.lufa notion!”

”Come,” said Mr. Elkins, ”we're losing time! Uncouple at once!”

We started to mount the engine; but Schwartz and Ole were before us, barring the way.

”Wait,” said Schwartz. ”Jest look at it, now. It's quite a run yet; and the chances are you'd have the cylinder-heads knocked out before you'd got half way; and then where'd you be with your connections?”

”Do you mean to say,” said Jim, ”that there's any likelihood of the engine's dying on us between here and the Junction?”

”It's a cinch!” said Schwartz.

”For G.o.d's sake, then, let's get on!” said Jim. ”I believe you're lying to me, Schwartz. But do this: As you come to the trestle, stop. From the approach we can see down the other track for ten miles. If Pendleton's train is far enough off so as to give us time, we'll see how the bridge is before we cross. If we're pressed for time too much for this, promise me that you'll stop and let us run the engine across alone.”

”I'll think about it,” said Schwartz; ”and if I conclude to, I will.

It's got to clear up, if we can see even the headlight on the other road very far. Ready, Jack?”

We wrung their hard and icy hands, leaped upon the train, and were away again, spinning down the grade toward the Elk Fork, and comforted by our speed. Jim and I climbed into the cupola and watched the track ahead, and the two homely heroes in the cab, as the light from the furnace blazed out upon them from time to time. Now we could see Schwartz stoking, to warm himself; now we could see him looking at his watch and peering anxiously out before him.

It was wearing on toward nine, and still our goal was miles away.

Overhead the sky was clearing, and we could see the stars; but down on the ground the light, new snow still glided whitely along before the lessening wind. Once or twice we saw, or thought we saw, far ahead, lights, like those of a little prairie town. Was it the Junction? Yes, said Corcoran, when we called him to look; and now we saw that we were rising on the long approach to the trestle.

Would Schwartz stop, or would he run desperately across, as he had dashed through the flood? That was with him. His hand was on the lever, and we were helpless; but, if there was time, it would be mere foolhardiness to go upon the trestle at any but the slowest speed, and without giving all but one an opportunity to walk across. One, surely, was enough to go down with the engine, if it, indeed, went down.

”Don't stay up there,” shouted Corcoran, ”go out on the steps so you can jump for it if you have to!”

Out upon the platform we went in the biting wind, which still came fiercely on, sweeping over the waste of waters which covered the fields like a great lake. There was no sign of slowing down: right on, as if the road were rock-ballasted, and thrice secure, the engine drove toward the trestle.

”She's there, anyhow, I b'lieve,” said Corcoran, swinging out and looking ahead; ”but I wouldn't bet on how solid she is!”

”Can't you stop him?” said Jim.

”Stop nothing!” said Corcoran. ”Look over there!”