ow's coming off the ice," he said. "Hold fast! She may jump a little
when I ram her through."

The pace grew even faster. We were racing down an incline, and now, ice,
station, and prairie alike were blotted out by a blinding whiteness; while
presently I was flung backward off my feet, and would have fallen but that
I clutched a guard-rail. The whole cab rattled, the great locomotive
lurched, and a white smother hurtled under the lamp glare, until once more
the motion grew even, and we could feel the well-braced frame of iron and
steel leap forward beneath us. Engineer Robertson swayed easily to the
oscillation as, with one side of his intent face toward me, he clutched
the throttle lever, until he called hoarsely as his fingers moved along
it. Then, even while the steam roared in blown-down wreaths from the
lifting valve, the lever was straight at wide-open again, and I caught my
breath as I made out another yellow halo with something that moved behind
it in the snow ahead.

"It's the freight pulling out of the siding. I can't hold Number Forty up
before she's over the switches. I guess we've got to race for it," he
said.

The fireman did something, and, with a shower of half-burned cinders from
her funnel and a mad blast of the whistle, Number Forty pounded on.
Heysham's face was paler than before, and the disc of yellow radiance grew
nearer and brighter. A faint flash appeared below it, a deeper whistle
reached us brokenly, and I remembered two hoarse voices.

"They're opening the switches! That's come on," one of them said. "Trying
to check the freighter! There'll be an almighty smash if they don't!"

The other was apparently Heysham's: "And two rascally confidence men will
be skipping for the border with the proceeds of what should have been Ross
& Grant's cattle."

I said nothing. It did not seem that talking would do any good, and the
engineer might not have welcomed my advice. The great light was very
close. I could see the cars behind it and hear the grind of brakes, while
a man was bent double over a lever where the blaze of our head-lamp ran
along the ground. The engine rocked beneath us; there was a heavy lurch as
the fore-wheels struck the points; then Robertson laughed exultantly and
wiped his greasy face. In front lay only the open prairie and flying snow,
while the black shape of the freight-train grew indistinct behind.

"It was a pretty close call. Snow blurred the lights, and I guess the gale
h