The Face and the Mask by Robert Barr (books under 200 pages .txt) 📗

and then nothing really happened. Old Eighty-six seems to have the habit of pulling herself through. I suppose you and she have been in worse fixes than that, with not a word said about it.”

“Oh, yes,” said John, “we’ve been in many a tight place together, but we won’t be any more. It’s rough, as you say. I’ve been fifteen years with the company, and seven on old Eighty-six, and at first it comes mighty hard. But I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

“Look here, John,” said the conductor, lowering his voice to a confidential tone, “the president of the road is with us to-night; his private car is the last but one on the train. How would it do to speak to him? If you are afraid to tackle him, I’ll put in a word for you in a minute, and tell him your side of the story.”

John Saggart shook his head.

“It wouldn’t do,” he said; “he wouldn’t overrule what one of his subordinates had done, unless there was serious injustice in the case. It’s the new manager, you know. There’s always trouble with a new manager. He sweeps clean. And I suppose that he thinks by ‘bouncing’ one of the oldest engineers on the road, he will scare the rest.”

“Well, I don’t think much of him between ourselves,” said the conductor. “What do you think he has done to-night? He’s put a new man on Eighty-six. A man from one of the branch lines who doesn’t know the road. I doubt if he’s ever been over the main line before. Now, it’s an anxious enough time for me anyhow with a heavy train to take through, with the thermometer at zero, and the rails like glass, and I like to have a man in front that I can depend on.”

“It’s bad enough not to know the road,” said John gloomily, “but it’s worse not to know old Eighty-six. She’s a brute if she takes a notion.”

“I don’t suppose there is another engine that could draw this train and keep her time,” said the conductor.

“No! She’ll do her work all right if you’ll only humor her,” admitted Saggart, who could not conceal his love for the engine even while he blamed her.

“Well,” said the conductor, rising and picking up his lantern, “the man in front may be all right, but I would feel safer if you were further ahead than the smoker. I’m sorry I can’t offer you a berth to-night, John, but we’re full clear through to the rear lights. There isn’t even a vacant upper on the train.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Saggart. “I couldn’t sleep, anyhow. I’d rather sit here and look out of the window.”

“Well, so long,” said the conductor. “I’ll drop in and see you as the night passes on.”

Saggart lit his pipe and gazed out into darkness. He knew every inch of the road—all the up grades and the down grades and the levels. He knew it even better in the murkiest night than in the clearest day. Now and then the black bulk of a barn or a clump of trees showed for one moment against the sky, and Saggart would say to himself, “Now he should shut off an inch of steam,” or, “Now he should throw her wide open.” The train made few stops, but he saw that they were losing time. Eighty-six was sulking, very likely. Thinking of the engine turned his mind to his own fate. No man was of very much use in the world, after all, for the moment he steps down another is ready to stand in his place. The wise men in the city who had listened to his defence knew so well that an engine was merely a combination of iron and steel and brass, and that a given number of pounds of steam would get it over a given number of miles in a given number of hours, and they had smiled incredulously when he told them that an engine had her tantrums, and informed them that sometimes she had to be coddled up like any other female. Even when a man did his best there were occasions when nothing he could do would mollify her, and then there was sure to be trouble, although, he added, in his desire to be fair, she was always sorry for it afterward. Which remark, to his confusion, had turned the smile into a laugh.

He wondered what Eighty-six thought of the new man. Not much, evidently, for she was losing time, which she had no business to do on that section of the road. Still it might be the fault of the new man not knowing when to push her for all she was worth and when to ease up. All these things go to the making of time. But it was more than probable that old Eighty-six, like Gilpin’s horse, was wondering more and more what thing upon her back had got. “He’ll have trouble,” muttered John to himself, “when she finds out.”

The conductor came in again and sat down beside the engineer. He said nothing, but sat there sorting his tickets, while Saggart gazed out of the window. Suddenly the engineer sprang to his feet with his eyes wide open. The train was swaying from side to side and going at great speed.

The conductor looked up with a smile.

“Old Eighty-six,” he said, “is evidently going to make up for lost time.”

“She should be slowing down for crossing the G. & M. line,” replied the engineer. “Good heavens!” he cried a moment after, “we’ve gone across the G. & M. track on the keen jump.”

The conductor sprang to his feet. He knew the seriousness of such a thing. Even the fastest expresses must stop dead before crossing on the level the line of another railway. It is the law.

“Doesn’t that fool in front know enough to stop at a crossing?”

“It isn’t that.” said Saggart. “He knows all right. Even the train boys know that. Old Eighty-six has taken the bit between her teeth. He can’t stop her. Where do you pass No. 6 to-night?”

“At Pointsville.”

“That’s only six miles ahead,” said the engineer; “and in five minutes at this rate we will be running on her time and on her rails. She’s always late, and won’t be on the side track. I must get to Eighty-six.”

Saggart quickly made his way through the baggage-coach, climbed on the express car, and jumped on the coal of the tender. He cast his eye up the track and saw glimmering in the distance, like a faint wavering star, the headlight of No. 6. Looking down into the cab he realized the situation in a glance. The engineer, with fear in his face and beads of perspiration on his brow, was throwing his whole weight on the lever, the fireman helping him. Saggart leaped down to the floor of the cab.

“Stand aside,” he shouted; and there was such a ring of confident command in his voice that both men instantly obeyed.

Saggart grasped the lever, and instead of trying to shut off steam flung it wide open. Number Eighty-six gave a quiver and a jump forward. “You old fiend!” muttered John between his teeth. Then he pushed the lever home, and it slid into place as if there had never been any impediment. The steam was shut off, but the lights