much below it. So what hope was there?

There was hope in a tall, sparely built man named Bill Tunkey, whom
nobody knew much about except that he was a good engineer with a rather
clumsy ten-wheel locomotive not considered very desirable in a race. All
the other locomotives had been eight-wheelers. Still, the new engine had
one advantage, that she carried water enough in her tank for the whole
run, and need not slow up to refill, as the others had done. She had
another advantage--that she carried Tunkey, one of those men who rise up
in sudden emergencies and _do_ things, whether they are possible or not.
It was not possible, everybody vowed, to reach Buffalo Creek by eleven
thirty-one. "All right," said Tunkey, quietly, and then--

Within forty rods of the start he had his engine going 30 miles an hour,
and he pressed her harder and harder until 11 miles out of Erie she
struck an 80-mile pace, and held it as far as Brockton, when she put
forth all her strength and did a burst of 5 miles in 31/2 minutes, one of
these miles at the rate of 921/4 miles an hour, as the watches showed.
"And I never want any more of that in mine," said the superintendent.

The next town was Dunkirk, where a local ordinance put a 10-mile limit
on the speed of trains. Tunkey smiled as they roared past the station at
more than 80. A crowd lined the tracks here, for the telegraph had
carried ahead the news of a hair-raising run. That crowd was only a blur
to staring, frightened eyes at the car-windows. The officials were
beginning to realize what kind of an engineer they had ahead this time.
Whizzzzz! How they did run! Wahr! Wahr! barked the little bridges and
were left behind! H-o-o-o! bellowed a tunnel. And rip, whrrr! as they
slammed around a double reverse curve with a vicious swing that made the
bolts rattle in the last car. Men put their mouths to other men's ears
and tried to say that perhaps Mr. Tunkey was getting a _little_
overzealous. Much good that did! Mr. Tunkey had the bit in his teeth now
and was playing the game alone.

At eleven-six they swept past Silver Creek with 29 miles to go and 25
minutes to make it in. Hurrah! They had made up time enough to save
them!

At eleven-twenty they passed Lake View.

"Twelve miles more, and 11 minutes," yelled somebody, waving his hat.

"Toboggan-slide all the way," yelled somebody else. "We'll do it easy.
Hooray!"

They passed Athol Springs at eleven-twenty-four, all mad with
excitemen