John’s eye followed him to the rear of the car. After a minute he got up and went to the door. He opened it and stepped onto the platform. The brakeman was bending over the end of the car, peering down at something. He tested it once or twice with his hand before he scrambled to his feet. “It ’s the red,” he said as he saw who stood beside him. “It don’t burn right--”
“Yes--What’s up?” The train was swirling through the dark and they held to the guard-rail as they faced each other.
In his cab, at the other end of the train, the old Scotchman, his body braced to the swing of the wheels, leaned out, looking back with tense eyes.
The fireman leaned beside him, for a moment, piercing the dark with swift, keen glance, “Nothing there,” he said.
The train, on the down grade by the river, ran with swift ease through the night.... No sight--no sound.... Only the great river to the left slipping--dark and still, and the stars overhead.
But the two men leaned back, scenting the dark with swift gaze.
“Nothing there,” said the fireman, peering out, “You must ’a’--”
A long, low whistle broke the night, echoing against the distant hills.
The eyes of the two men met. Tomlinson’s hand raised itself with startled thrust. The answering shriek tore the night.... Once--twice--in hoarse demand....
Again the low, seeking call among the hills. Then silence and the black river slipping by.
Tomlinson’s hand upon the lever quickened its hold, drawing it tense. “We take no chances,” he said. The engine trembled beneath and leaped to swifter stride. It swayed through the night. The furnace door flew open and heaven blazed with roar and glow and swift heat. The faces of the two men, lurid in the white glare, confronted each other. Then darkness, and the swift rush of steel on steel--crunching, heavy beats of sound--and the thrusting roar and smoke.... They were swinging the bend of the curve now, where the road leaves the river under the mountain to track across country. Tomlinson, his body half thrown from the cab, strained back, his peering eyes searching the distant curve. He drew his hand across them.
“She ’s there, Jim!.... Look!” The shaking hand flung the words.
The fireman leaped to his side. A glimmer--a flash--twinkled gleams on the far curve.