avel for
the sake of the ride only, or for no reason, as a deaf man walks on the
railroad-track.

Gradually he extended his trips, taking the Midland over into Utah; and
once or twice he had been seen on the rear end of the California Limited
as it dropped down the western water-shed of Raton Range.

One night, when the Limited was lapping up the landscape and the Desert
was rushing in under her pilot and streaking out below the last sleeper
like tape from a ticker, the danger signal sounded in the engine cab,
the air went on full, the passengers braced themselves against the seats
in front of them, or held their breath in their berths as the train came
to a dead stop.

The conductor and the head man hurried forward shouting, "What's the
matter?" to the engineer.

The driver, leaning from his lofty window, asked angrily, "What in
thunder's the matter with you? I got a stop signal from behind."

"You'd better lay off and have a good sleep," said the conductor.

"I'll put you to sleep for a minute if you ever hint that I was not
awake coming down Canon Diablo," shouted the engineer, releasing his
brakes. As the long, heavy train glided by, the trainmen swung up like
sailors, and away went the Limited over the long bridge, five minutes to
the bad.

A month later the same thing happened on the East end. The engineer was
signalled and stopped on a curve with the point of his pilot on a high
bridge.

This time the captain and the engineer were not so brittle of temper.
They discussed the matter, calling on the fireman, who had heard
nothing, being busy in the coal-tank.

The head brakeman, crossing himself, said it was the "unseen hand" that
had been stopping the Limited on the Desert. It might be a warning, he
said, and walked briskly out on the bridge looking for dynamite, ghosts,
and things.

When he had reached the other end of the bridge, he gave the go-ahead
signal and the train pulled out. As they had lost seven minutes, it was
necessary for the conductor to report "cause of delay;" and that was the
first hint the officials of any of the Western lines had of the "unseen
hand."

Presently trainmen, swapping yarns at division stations, heard of the
mysterious signal on other roads.

The Columbia Limited, over on the Short Line, was choked with her head
over Snake River, at the very edge of Pendleton. When they had pulled in
and a fresh crew had taken the train on, the in-coming captain and his
daring dri