last trip! It wasn't quite so dark it may be, but he was behind
time, as we are, and he was trying to make up.

"He was swinging down the long grade beyond Woodsville at a humming
rate. There was no station at the Hollow then, and he was counting on a
clean sweep to Owls' Nest. Leaving the air-line grade he swooped around
the curve, when right in his face and eyes he saw a string of loose
cars, which had broken from the special on the highlands.

"He must have been going at the rate of fifty miles an hour, and the
runaways were coming toward him at scarcely less speed. I caught a gleam
of his white face as he reversed, and then he was beside me at the
brake.

"'Stand by!' he cried. 'We'll die at our post.'

"The shock came the next moment. I felt myself lifted into the air, and
the next I knew I was lying at the foot of the embankment, a dozen yards
from the place where we had met.

"Jack died at his post, and his sufferings could not have lasted long,
for he was crushed beyond recognition. Fortunately no other lives were
lost, though the passengers were terribly shaken up, and two of the
freight cars were piled up on the engine.

"Jack's fidelity, I am sure, averted a worse catastrophe. He met the
fate of a hero, and it was always a mystery to me the company never did
more for his family.

"Hey! As I live, the Swan is falling into another ugly mood!"

They were rushing along at a tremendous rate, and an inexperienced eye
would have seen nothing amiss.

In fact, the engineer himself could not. The driving-rods were shooting
back and forth in perfect play, while the large drivers were revolving
with clock-like regularity. Every now and then Jockey would give the
lever a slight pressure, which would be instantly felt by the iron
steed.

Despite all this the Silver Swan was not doing as well as she ought. She
was barely keeping her course at the usual speed.

Jockey glanced to the boiler. The index finger pointed to the gauge at
122 degrees. Three more degrees was all she could stand. Rock was doing
his duty. The track was straight and level. Still the Swan showed no
disposition to gain the twenty minutes coveted time.

The old engineer shook his grizzled head and the furrows deepened on his
careworn visage.

"The fates are against us to-night," he muttered. "We can never make
Wood's Hollow in time to escape the down express. That is always on
time."

Just then the little gong over his head sounded, in re