hen where'd you be with your connections?"

"Do you mean to say," said Jim, "that there's any likelihood of the
engine's dying on us between here and the Junction?"

"It's a cinch!" said Schwartz.

"For God's sake, then, let's get on!" said Jim. "I believe you're lying
to me, Schwartz. But do this: As you come to the trestle, stop. From
the approach we can see down the other track for ten miles. If
Pendleton's train is far enough off so as to give us time, we'll see how
the bridge is before we cross. If we're pressed for time too much for
this, promise me that you'll stop and let us run the engine across
alone."

"I'll think about it," said Schwartz; "and if I conclude to, I will.
It's got to clear up, if we can see even the headlight on the other road
very far. Ready, Jack?"

We wrung their hard and icy hands, leaped upon the train, and were away
again, spinning down the grade toward the Elk Fork, and comforted by our
speed. Jim and I climbed into the cupola and watched the track ahead,
and the two homely heroes in the cab, as the light from the furnace
blazed out upon them from time to time. Now we could see Schwartz
stoking, to warm himself; now we could see him looking at his watch and
peering anxiously out before him.

It was wearing on toward nine, and still our goal was miles away.
Overhead the sky was clearing, and we could see the stars; but down on
the ground the light, new snow still glided whitely along before the
lessening wind. Once or twice we saw, or thought we saw, far ahead,
lights, like those of a little prairie town. Was it the Junction? Yes,
said Corcoran, when we called him to look; and now we saw that we were
rising on the long approach to the trestle.

Would Schwartz stop, or would he run desperately across, as he had
dashed through the flood? That was with him. His hand was on the lever,
and we were helpless; but, if there was time, it would be mere
foolhardiness to go upon the trestle at any but the slowest speed, and
without giving all but one an opportunity to walk across. One, surely,
was enough to go down with the engine, if it, indeed, went down.

"Don't stay up there," shouted Corcoran, "go out on the steps so you can
jump for it if you have to!"

Out upon the platform we went in the biting wind, which still came
fiercely on, sweeping over the waste of waters which covered the fields
like a great lake. There was no sign of slowing down: right on, as if
the road were rock-ballas