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168 tracks, and scramble off just in time to escape annihilation. A blur of white remained on the back platform, and Alan understood that Barcus had merely been clearing the way of Trine's guards. Another minute, and less than fifty feet separated the two trains. Then Alan crept out alongside of the boiler. It seemed an hour before he worked himself up to the cow-catcher, now within four feet of the rear platform of the special. On this last he could see a woman's figure, and beside her a man in a white coat, clinging for dear life to the knob of the door, holding it shut against the frantic efforts of some person inside.

Another hour of suspense dragged out—or such was the effect—while the light engine bridged these four scant feet.

At length it was feasible to attempt the thing. Rose was half over the rail of the car ahead, ready to jump. Straining forward and holding on to a bar so hot that it scorched his palm, he offered a hand to the girl on the rail.

Her hand fell confidently into it. She jumped. His arm wound round her as she landed on the platform of the cow-catcher. He heard her breathe his name, then passed her to the footway at the side. The fireman was waiting there to help her. Alan turned his attention to Barcus.

To his dismay he found that the engine was losing