IX
FIFTY MILES AN HOUR
"Let me promote you, Miss Vennor," Brockway said, helping Gertrude tothe foot-board; "Mr. Maclure says you may have his seat for awhile."
Gertrude acquiesced unquestioningly. For some cause as yet unclassified,acquiescence seemed to be quite the proper thing when she was withBrockway, though docility with others was not her most remarkablecharacteristic. When she was safely bestowed, Maclure rang the bell andgave Brockway his instructions.
"Next stop's Red Butte--twenty-seven miles--thirty-eight minutes o'card-time--no allowance for slowin' down at Corral Siding. And if youcan twist 'em any quicker, do it. Turn her loose."
The engineer betook himself to the fireman's box, and Brockway'sresolution was taken on the spur of the moment.
"Do just as I tell you, Miss Vennor, and I'll give you a brand-newexperience," he said, quickly. "Take hold of this lever and pull--bothhands--pull hard!"
Gertrude did it simply because she was told to, and it was not until theengine lunged forward that she understood what it was she was doing."Oh, Mr. Brockway--I can't!" she cried; "it won't mind me!"
"Yes, it will; I'll show you how. Push it back a little; you mustn'ttear your fire. There; let her make a few turns at that."
Gertrude clung to the throttle as if she were afraid it was alive andwould escape, but her eyes sparkled and the flush of excitement mountedswiftly to cheek and brow.
"Now give her a little more--just a notch or two--that's enough. Youneedn't hold it; it won't run away," Brockway said, laughing at her.
"I shall go daft if I don't hold something! Oh, _please_, Mr. Brockway!I know I shall smash everything into little bits!"
"No, you won't; I sha'n't let you. A little more steam, if you please;that's right. Now take hold of this lever with both hands, braceyourself and pull steadily."
The reversing-lever of a big ten-wheeler is no child's plaything, and hestood ready to help her if she could not manage it. But Miss Vennor didmanage it, though the first notch or two had to be fought for; andMaclure, who had quite forgotten his promise not to look on, applaudedenthusiastically.
"Good!" said Brockway, approvingly; "you are doing famously. Now alittle more throttle; that's enough."
The 926 forged ahead obediently, and Gertrude began to enter into thespirit of the thing.
"This is simply Titanic!" she exclaimed. "What shall I do next?"
"Cut her back a little more," Brockway commanded; "two notches. Now alittle more steam--more yet; that will do."
The great engine lunged forward like a goaded animal, and Gertrude satup very straight and clung to the reversing-lever when the cab began tolurch and sway. But she obeyed Brockway's directions promptly andimplicitly.
"Don't be afraid of her," he said. "You have a clear track and a heavyrail."
"I'm not afraid," she asserted; "I'm miles beyond that, now. If anythingshould happen, we'd all be dead before we found it out, so I can beperfectly reckless."
Mile after mile of the level plain swept backward under the drummingwheels, and Brockway's heart made music within him because it had somelittle fragment of its desire. In order to see the track through thefront window of the cab, he had to lean his elbow on the cushion besideher, and it brought them very near--nearer, he thought, than they wouldever be again.
Gertrude was much too full of the magnitude of things to care to talk,but she was finally moved to ask another question.
"Are we really running along on the rails just like any well-behavedtrain? It seems to me we must have left the track quite a while ago."
Brockway laughed. "You would know it, if we had. Do you see those twolittle yellow lights away out ahead?"
"Yes; what are they?"
"They are the switch-lights at Corral Siding. Take hold of this leverand blow the whistle yourself; then it won't startle you so much."
Gertrude did that, also, although it was more trying to her nerves thanall that had gone before. Then Brockway showed her how to reduce speed.
"Push the throttle in as far as it will go; that's right. Now thereversing-lever--both hands, and brace yourself--that's it. Now takehold of this handle and twist it that way--slowly--more yet--" the airwhistled shrilly through the vent, and the song of the brake-shoes onthe wheels of the train rose above the discordant clangor--"that willdo--turn it back," he added, when the speed had slackened sufficiently;and he leaned forward with his hand on the brake-lever and scanned theapproaching side-track with practised eyes.
"All clear!" he announced, springing back quickly. "Pull up this leveragain, and give her steam."
Gertrude obeyed like an automaton, though she blenched a little when thesmall station building at the Siding roared past, and in a few secondsthe 926 was again bettering the schedule.
"How fast are we going now?" she asked, when the engine was once morepitching and rolling like a laboring ship.
Brockway consulted his watch. "A little over fifty miles an hour, Ishould say. You will be quite safe in calling it that, anyway, when youtell your friends that you have run a fast express train."
"They'll never believe it," she said; "but I wouldn't have missed it forthe world. What must I do now?--watch the track?"
Brockway said "Yes," though, with all his interest in other things, hehad not omitted that very important part of an engineer's duty from themoment of leaving Arriba. After a roaring silence of some minutes,during which Brockway gave himself once more to the divided business ofscanning the rails and burning sweet incense on the altar of his love,she spoke again.
"What is that we are coming to, away out there?" she asked, tryingvainly to steady herself for a clearer view.
"The lights of Red Butte," he answered, relaxing his vigilance for themoment at the thought that his little side-trip into the land of joywould so shortly come to an end.
"No, I don't mean those!" she exclaimed, excitedly; "but this side ofthe lights. Don't you see?--on the track!"
Brockway allowed himself but a single swift glance. Half-way between theflying train and the station the line crossed a shallow sand creek on alow trestle. On both sides of the swale, crowding upon the track andfilling the bed of the creek, was a mass of moving forms, against whichthe lines of glistening rails ended abruptly.
At such a crisis, the engineer in a man, if any there be, asserts itselfwithout reference to the volitional nerve-centres. In the turning of aleaf, Brockway had thrown himself upon the throttle, dropped thereversing-lever, set the air-brake, and opened the sand-box; whileMaclure, seeing that his substitute was equal to the emergency, woke theechoes with the whistle. A hundred yards from the struggling mass offrightened cattle, Brockway saw that the air-brake was not holding.
"Don't move!" he cried; and Gertrude cowered in her corner as the heavyreversing-lever came over with a crash, and the great engine heaved andbuckled in the effort to check its own momentum.
It was all over before she could cry out or otherwise advertise her verynatural terror. The moving mass had melted away before the measuredapproach of the train; the trestle had rumbled under the wheels; and the926 was steaming swiftly up to the station under Brockway's guidance.
"Have you had more than enough?" he asked, when he had brought the trainto a stand opposite the platform at Red Butte.
"Yes--no, not that, either," she added, quickly. "I'm glad to have had ataste of the real danger as well. But I think I'd better go back; it'sgetting late, isn't it?"
"Yes. Mac, we resign. Sorry I had to put your old tea-kettle in theback-gear; but the air wasn't holding, and we didn't want any chippedbeef for supper. Good-night, and many thanks. Don't pull out till I giveyou the signal."
They hurried down the platform arm-in-arm, and Gertrude was the first tospeak.
"Didn't you think we were all going to be killed?"
"No; but I did think I should never forgive myself if anything happenedto you."
"It wouldn't have been your fault. And I've had a glorious bit ofdistraction; I
shall remember it as long as I live."
"Yes; you have actually driven a train fifty miles an hour," laughedBrockway, handing her up the steps of car Naught-fifty.
"I have; and now I shall go in and be scolded eighty miles an hour topay for it. But I sha'n't mind that. Good-night, and thank you ever somuch. We shall see you in the morning?"
"Yes." Brockway said it confidently, and gave a tug at the bell-cord, tolet Maclure know they were safely aboard; but when the door of theprivate car had yawned and swallowed Miss Vennor, he remembered thePresident's probable frame of mind, and thought it doubtful.