e leaned over
towards Ralph, pointing eagerly through the side window.

"I see," said Ralph above the deafening roar of the wind and the
grinding wheels, "the Night Express."

They could see the lights of the train ever and anon across an open
space where, about a mile distant, the tracks of the Midland Central
paralleled those of the Shelby division of the Great Northern. The
young engineer again glanced at the clock. His eye brightened, into
his face came the most extravagant soul of hope. It was dashed
somewhat as Fogg, feeding the furnace and closing the door, leaned
towards him with the words:

"The last shovel full."

"You don't mean it!" exclaimed Ralph.

The fireman swept his hand towards the empty tender.

"Eight miles," said Ralph in an anxious tone. "With full steam we
could have reached the Junction ten minutes ahead of the Express. Will
the fire last out?"

"I'll mend it some," declared the fireman. "Fairbanks, we might
lighten the load," he added.

"You mean----"

"The tender."

"Yes," said Ralph, "cut it loose," and a minute later the railroad
president uttered a sudden cry as the tender shot into the distance,
uncoupled. Then he understood, and smiled excitedly. And then, as Fogg
reached under his seat, pulled out a great bundle of waste and two oil
cans, and flung them into the furnace, he realized the desperate
straits at which they had arrived and their forlorn plight.

Conserving every ounce of steam, all of his nerves on edge, the young
engineer drove No. 999 forward like some trained steed. As they
rounded a hill just outside of Shelby Junction, they could see the
Night Express steaming down its tracks, one mile away.

"We've made it!" declared Ralph, as they came within whistling
distance of the tower at the interlocking rails where the two lines
crossed.

"Say," yelled Fogg suddenly, "they've given the Express the right of
way."

This was true. Out flashed the stop signal for No. 999, and the white
gave the "come on" to the Night Express. There was no time to get to
the tower and try to influence the towerman to cancel system at the
behest of a railroad president.

"You must stop that train!" rang out the tones of the official
sharply.

"I'm going to," replied Fairbanks grimly.

He never eased up on No. 999. Past the tower she slid. Then a glowing
let up, and then, disregarding the lowered gates, she crashed straight
through them, reducing them to kindling wood.

Square