orld's record of
63.61 miles an hour, including all stops, over the 4361/2 miles between
New York and Buffalo. They had before them a longer run than that, and
hoped to score a greater average speed per mile; but they wished to come
through alive, and were taking no chances.

It was half-past three in the morning, and frosty weather, when the
train started from Chicago, with Mark Floyd at the throttle, and various
important people--general managers, superintendents, editors, etc.--on
the cars behind. There were two parlor-coaches, weighing 92,500 pounds
each, and a millionaire's private car, one of the finest and heaviest in
the country, weighing 119,500 pounds, which made a total load, counting
engine and train, of something over two hundred tons.

The first relay was 87 miles to Elkhart, Indiana, and the schedule they
hoped to follow required that they cover this distance in 78 minutes,
including nine "slow-downs." Eighty-seven miles in 78 minutes was well
enough; but the superintendent of the Western Division had set his heart
on doing it in 75 minutes, and had promised Mark Floyd two hundred good
cigars for every quarter of a minute he could cut under that time. But
alas for human plans! Between up grades and the darkness they pulled
into Elkhart at five minutes to five, which was 85 minutes for the 87
miles--not bad going, but it left them seven minutes behind the
schedule, and left Mark to console himself with his old clay pipe.

[Illustration: A RECORD BREAKING RUN.]

One hundred and thirty-one seconds were lost at Elkhart in changing
locomotives, and it was three minutes to five when big 599, with Dave
Luce in the cab, turned her nose toward the dawning day and started for
Toledo, 133 miles away. Great things were expected in this relay, for
about half of it was straight as a bird's flight and down grade, too, so
that hopes were high of making up lost time, especially as Luce had the
reputation of stopping at nothing when it was a question of "getting
there." He certainly did wonders, and five minutes after the start he
had the train at a 62-mile gait, and ten minutes later at a 67-mile
gait. Then they struck frost on the rails and the speed dropped, while
the time-takers studied their stopwatches with serious faces.

At ten minutes to six they reached Waterloo and the long, straight
stretch. As they whizzed past the station, Dave pulled open his throttle
to the last notch and yelled to his fireman. Here was