mentioned Koku. His
eccentric behavior doubtless somewhat puzzled the railroaders.

"That's all right," chuckled Ned. "Let them think Koku is dangerous if
they want to. That O'Malley person believed he was!"

"I'll say so!" replied Tom. "The way he ran when Koku started after him
that time on the Waterfield Road seemed to prove that he didn't want to
mix with Koku."

"If he--or other spies--learns that Koku is with the Hercules
Three-Oughts-One, it ought to warn them away from the locomotive."

This was Ned's final speech before getting into his berth. He, as well
as Tom, slept quite as calmly on this first night out of Chicago as
they had before.

They knew exactly where the electric locomotive was. It was on the same
road as this train they were traveling in, and, although on a different
track, it was not many miles ahead. In fact, if the two trains kept to
schedule, the transcontinental passenger train would pass the freight
in question about five o'clock in the morning.

It lacked half an hour of that time when the Pullman train came
suddenly to a jolting stop. Both Tom and Ned were awakened with the
rest of the passengers in their coach.

Heads were poked out between curtains all along the aisle and a chorus
of more or less excited voices demanded:

"What's the matter?"

"Nothin's the matter wid dis train, gen'lemens an' ladies," came in the
porter's important voice. "Jest nothin' at all's happened. It's done
happened up ahead of us, das all."

"Well, what has happened ahead of us, George?" asked Ned.

"Jest another train, Boss, been splatterin' itself all ober de right of
way. We sort o' bein' held up, das all," replied the porter.

"That's good news--for us," said Ned, preparing to climb back into his
berth. But he halted where he was when he heard his chum ask:

"What train left the track, George?"

"A freight train, sah. Yes, sah. Number Forty-eight. She jumped de
rails, side-swiped de accommodation dat was holdin' us back, and has
jest done spread herself all over de right of way."

"My goodness!" gasped Ned.

"Hear that, Ned?" exclaimed Tom. "Scramble into your clothes, boy. The
Hercules Three-Oughts-One is hitched to Forty-eight."

"Suppose she's off the track?" murmured Ned.

"It's lucky if she isn't smashed to matchwood," groaned Tom, and almost
immediately left the Pullman coach on the run.

Ned was not far behind him. When they reached the cinder path beside
the freight train it w