Page:McClure's Magazine volume 10.djvu/189

Rh The engineer pulled his throttle wide open in the effort to get across, but he hadn't time. We hit her right on the back drive; both engines rolled over on their sides, and both engineers and firemen were thrown out of their cabs and rolled around the yard. Luckily no one was seriously injured, though several passengers were bruised and cut by flying glass, and the tracks were pretty well torn up.

While Jack and I were busy getting the fire out of our engine, the conductor went up to the telegraph office and reported the wreck, and inside of an hour a new train was backed down on one of the yard tracks, our passengers and baggage transferred, and we went on. Next day all hands were called to the office, and from the mass of lies we told the superintendent sifted the truth. The conductor, engineer, and flagman of the freight were discharged at once, and Jack was suspended.

After he had loafed over thirty days and heard nothing from the superintendent, he called on the gentleman, and asked what he was going to do with him. The superintendent blazed out wrathfully: "I don't know what to do with you. If the law allowed me to, I'd hang you; a man who would go through a yard as you did ought to be hung." To which Jack replied in righteous indignation: "Well, I wish you'd do something with me. I can't afford to lay round here all summer waiting for you to make up your mind."

"You needn't lay round one minute, Do you understand that? Not one minute."

Jack wasn't discharged—he was too good a man to let go; but after he got back to work he said that if they wanted any more records broken they might get somebody else to do it; he was going to run according to the rules.

One evening, just as the conductor gave the signal and we had started from the water-plug, the operator came flying out of his office, waving an order and shouting like mad. We were four minutes late, and as I shouted "whoa" to Jack, I could see that he was mad. But that same four minutes was our salvation; for if we had got away from that station on time, we would have met with a very large surprise party a little later. The operator handed up an order to the effect that engine 96 had run away from and was coming east on the west-bound track. That was all, and enough, too; we knew she was coming, heading for us, but how far away she was, or how fast she was coming, we didn't know. It was a time to think and act quickly. Right behind us was an iron bridge eighty feet above the rocky bed of a mountain stream; an eighth of a mile beyond the bridge was a cross-over switch. As there was no siding on our track, our only way was to back over this. Although we were tolerably sure that there was nothing coming behind us on our track, still it is a grave violation of the rules to back up without first sending a flag back to protect you. There was nothing else for it, however, so Jack, shouting to the operator to hold everything east-bound, as he was going to back over, commenced backing right away, telling me to notify the conductor and get back on the engine as quickly as possible.

When I got back, he told me to watch out ahead, and if I saw her coming, to sing out, so as we could get off if she was coming too fast. It was an anxious moment; the rear brakeman was giving the signal, and when we got near the switch it was necessary to slack up so he could get off, unlock, and open it. I don't suppose that switch had been used much; that was the only time I ever saw it used. And passenger brakemen are proverbially slow at such matters, for they hate to soil their white hands and good clothes. It seemed as if he would never get it open. Jack had to come to a full stop to keep from running over it, and I could hear him muttering curses on the unfortunate brakeman, who, I have no doubt, was doing his level best and at last got the switch open. Then it appeared that the conductor had not had sufficient forethought to send another man to the other one; but the same fellow had to go and fumble with it, calling forth more anathemas from us. At last we got the welcome signal to back up and he gave her a jerk back that made all the passengers bob their heads. The way we went over those cross-over switches was a flagrant violation of all railroad precedent, but we got across all right, and I jumped off and closed the head switch.

"Now, let her come!" said Jack.

It was getting dark. We got off and walked up to the station to find out as many particulars as we could. All the agent knew was that she had passed the first station, eight miles out, in less than seven minutes after it was discovered that she had gone off on her own hook. As she