I have a dim recollection of splashing over miles of level road, drenched with water and buffeted by gusts of wind that faced us more and more, with the monotonous beat of hoofs ever in my ears, and the monotonous stride of the horse beneath me ever racking my tired muscles. Then we slackened pace in a road that wound in sharp descent through a gap in the hills, with the rush and roar of a torrent beneath and beside us, the wind sweeping with wild blasts through the trees that lined the way and covered the hillside and seeming to change the direction of its attack at every moment.
"We'll make it, I reckon," said Thatcher, at last. "It's only two miles farther, and the train hasn't gone up yet."
The horses by this time were well-blown. The road was heavy, and we had pressed them hard. Yet they struggled with spirit as they panted, and answered to the whip when we called on them for the last stretch as we once more found a level road.
There was no sign of life about the station as we drew our panting, steaming horses to a halt before it, and no train was in sight. The rain dripping heavily from the eaves was the only sound that came from it, and a dull glow from an engine that lay alone on a siding was the only light that was to be seen.
"What's the time?" asked Thatcher. "We must have made a quick trip."
"Twenty minutes past three," said I, striking a match under my coat to see my watch-face.
"Immortal snakes!" cried Thatcher. "I'm an idiot. This is Sunday night."
I failed to see the connection of these startling discoveries, but I had spirit enough to argue the case. "It's Monday morning, now."
"Well, it's the same thing. The freight doesn't run to-night."
I awoke to some interest at this announcement.
"Why, it's got to run, or we must take to saddle again for the rest of the way."
"These horses can't go five miles more at that gait, let alone twenty-five," protested Thatcher.
"Well, then, we must get other horses here."
"Come," said Fitzhugh; "what's the use of that when there's an engine on the siding doing nothing?"
But there did not appear to be any man in charge. The engineer and fireman were gone, and the watchman had been driven to cover by the foul weather.
"Why, this is the engine that came up with the special this noon," said Fitzhugh. "I remember the number."