Page:Arthur Stringer - Gun Runner.djvu/339

 this relentless enemy of light, was on his heels, turned him back to his work, frenziedly, until his heart pounded like a trip-hammer under his aching breast-bone, and his breath, in that rarefied atmosphere, came with short, painful gasps.

He had to resort to his brandy-flask before he could reach the car again. There he rested for a precious minute or two, explaining to Alicia that he would pry against the empty flat-car's wheel with a logwood stick, while she hauled and tugged at its lower end with the reversed motor.

It was perilous work, calling for the utmost caution lest one fault of judgment undo all his labour. It was a moment when everything hung in the balance, when one grain of ill-luck would send the beam swinging up against them. But an inarticulate little cry burst from him as he saw the black mass slowly yield, and then move, inch by languid inch. He heard the grind of the rusty wheel-flanges against the switch-points, and knew that he had won.

Then the operation was repeated, when once the switch had been cleared and the lever thrown over, and again the stubborn flat-car was pried and pushed into motion. When it came to a standstill, it was left resting well off to the left of the switch, with the road to Guariqui once more open.