ie ought to throttle
down when he runs out and sees the light."

Lister listened. The swelling note indicated that the train had left the
cut, but it did not look as if the engineer was pulling up.

"She's coming along pretty fast," said Willis. "If he doesn't snub her
soon, she'll jump the steel and take the muskeg."

Next moment Lister was on his feet. Hardie was driving too fast; Lister
doubted if he could stop before the heavy train plunged through the
broken track. The unsteady white flicker behind the trees had sunk and
changed to smoky red. If looked as if the oil was not vaporizing
properly and the lamp was going out. When the engineer saw the light it
would be too late.

"Get the boys off the track. I'll try to fix the lamp," Lister shouted,
and started for the bridge.

The errand was not his. Willis had lighted the lamp: moreover, one might
have sent a workman, but when a job was urgent Lister went himself. The
job was urgent and dangerous. Unless he made good speed, he would meet
the train on the bridge and the cylinders of the locomotive projected
beyond the edge.

The track was rough and fresh gravel rolled under his feet. Now and then
he struck a cross-tie and nearly fell. It had got dark and among the
trees the gloom was deep; one could not see the ties. Yet he must run,
and his breath got labored and his heart thumped. He did not know where
the train was, only that it was near. The woods throbbed with a savage
din; the big cars, loaded with rattling gravel, clanged and roared as
they plunged down grade.

Lister hardly thought he could stop the train. It looked as if he would
be caught on the trestle, but he meant to go on. He did not argue about
it; he was rather moved by instinctive stubbornness. At moments of
strain one does not argue and logic has no appeal. Character counts for
all, and Lister followed his bent. His job was urgent and must be
carried out.

When he reached the bridge he saw white threads of water between the
timbers of the open frame. The spacing of the ties was not regular, and
if he stepped short, or too far, he would go through. Then, if he did
not strike a brace, he would fall upon the rocks in the stream. All the
same, he saw the blaze of the head-lamp pick out the trees across the
ravine and sprang on to the bridge.

Somehow he hit the ties; perhaps by subconscious judgment, and perhaps
by good luck. Then he felt loose gravel under his feet and thrilled with
a strang