off. If you can't catch that special there's no hope for it. It's the only
thing left to try."

Without waiting to hear all this Rod had instantly obeyed the first order,
sprung to the rear of the tender, drawn the coupling-pin, and was back in
the cab in less time than it takes to write of it. Truman Stump did not
utter a word; but, before the operator finished speaking, number 10 was in
motion. He had barely time to leap to the ground as she gathered headway
and began to spring forward on the wildest race for life or death ever run
on the New York and Western road.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE ONLY CHANCE OF SAVING THE SPECIAL.

So well did Truman Stump and his young fireman understand each other,
that, as locomotive number 10 sprang away on her race after the special,
there was no necessity for words between them. Only after Rod had done
everything in his power to ensure a full head of steam and paused for a
moment's breathing-spell, did he step up behind the engineman and ask,
"What is it, True?"

"Minkskill bridge gone! We are trying to catch the special," answered
the driver, briefly, without turning his head. It was enough; and Rod
instantly comprehended the situation. There was a choking sensation in his
throat, as he remembered the face disclosed by the lightning a few moments
before, and realized the awful danger that now threatened the sunny-haired
girl who had been his playmate, and was still his friend. With a
desperate energy he flung open the furnace-door, and toiled to feed the
roaring flames behind it. They almost licked his face in their mad
leapings, as their scorching breath mingled with his. He was bathed in
perspiration; and, when the front windows of the cab were forced open by
the fierce pressure of the gale, he welcomed the cold blast and hissing
rain that swept through it.

Number 10 had now attained a fearful speed, and rocked so violently from
side to side that its occupants were obliged to brace themselves and cling
to the solid framework. It was a miracle that she kept the track. At each
curve, and there were many of them on this section, Rod held his breath,
fully expecting the mighty mass of iron to leap from the rails and plunge
headlong into the yawning blackness. But she clung to them, and the steady
hand at the throttle opened it wider, and still a little wider, until the
handle had passed any limit that even the old engineman had ever seen.
Still the young fireman, with set te