hrough with
that. How did the engine come to run away?"

"It was simple enough," said the Baron. "The engineer, after starting
the train came back into the smoking car to get a light for his pipe,
and while he was there the coupling-pin between the engine and the
train broke, and off skipped the engine twice as fast as it had been
going before. The relief from the weight of the train set its pace to
a mile a minute instead of a mile in two minutes, and there we were at
a dead stop in front of the Vitriol Station with nothing to move us
along. When the engineer saw what had happened he fainted dead away,
because you know if a collision had occurred between the runaway
engine and the train ahead he would have been held responsible."

"Couldn't the fireman stop the engine?" asked the Twins.

"No. That is, it wouldn't be his place to do it, and these railway
fellows are queer about that sort of thing," said the Baron. "The
engineers would go out upon a strike if the railroad were to permit a
stoker to manage the engine, and besides that the stoker wouldn't
undertake to do it at a stoker's wages, so there wasn't any help to be
looked for there. The conductor happened to be nearsighted, and so he
didn't find out that the engine was missing until he had wasted ten or
twenty minutes examining the brakes, by which time, of course, the
runaway was miles and miles up the track. Then the engineer came to,
and began to wring his hands and moan in a way that was heart-rending.
The conductor, too, began to cry, and all the brakemen left the train
and took to the woods. They weren't going to have any of the
responsibility for the accident placed on their shoulders. Whether
they will ever turn up again I don't know. But I realised as soon as
anybody else that something had to be done, so I rushed into the
telegraph office and telegraphed to all the station masters between
the Vitriol Reservoir and Cimmeria to clear the track of all trains,
freight, local, or express, or somebody would be hurt, and that I
myself would undertake to capture the runaway engine. This they all
promised to do, whereupon I bade good-bye to my fellow-travellers, and
set off up the track myself at full speed. In a minute I strode past
Sulphur Springs, covering at least eight ties at a stretch. In two
minutes I thundered past Lava Hurst, where I learned that the engine
had twenty miles start of me. I made a rapid calculation mentally--I
always was strong in men