t was twenty years ago, on
old engine 89. It was right at the Sing Sing station, and three of 'em
jumped into the cab all of a sudden and told Denny to open her up, and
you bet he did. Then they told him to jump, and he jumped; but first he
managed to fix her tank-valves so she'd pump herself full of water and
stop before she'd gone far. That was Denny's great scheme, and he
walked along laughing to think how mad those convicts would be in a few
minutes.

"It turned out, though, that Denny spoiled a nice trap they'd laid up at
Tarrytown to catch those fellows when they got there. You see, the
telegraph operator wired up the line that a runaway locomotive was
coming with three escaped convicts on her, and the train despatcher at
Tarrytown just set the switch so the locomotive would sail plump over a
twelve-foot stone embankment down into the Hudson River. That's what
would have happened to those convicts if Denny had left his tank-valves
alone, but, of course, 89 got water-logged long before she reached
Tarrytown; she just kicked out her cylinder-ends a few miles up the
track and stopped. Then the convicts climbed down and skipped away. Two
of 'em got caught afterward, but there was one they never caught."

Presently somebody reported that Big Arthur was out in the round-house,
getting 2994 ready to take out the Empire State. It was clear enough
that Big Arthur was an important figure in the eyes of these begrimed
men, and, setting forth across the yards, I came upon him presently,
torch in hand, looking over his deep, purring locomotive against the
dangers of the run. Another engineer by the fire-box was discussing a
theory of some of the boys, that a man can run his locomotive by his
sense of time as well as by a watch.

"Denny Cassin says he'd agree to take the Empire State from Albany to
New York and keep her right on the dot all the way, and bring her in on
the minute, just by _feeling_. What d' ye think of that?"

"That's possible," said Big Arthur. "A man can feel how fast he's going.
He's _got_ to judge big speed by feeling, for there ain't any
speed-recorder that's much good, say above ninety miles an hour."

At the first opportunity I explained to Big Arthur and his friend that I
would very much like to draw upon their experience for some thrilling
incidents in engine-driving.

"Tell him about the time you went in the river," suggested Big Arthur.

"That was 'way back in '69," said the other, "when I was