d through for all the grime and
perspiration, he lurched and snatched at his engineer's arm.

"Life's a hell of a thing, ain't it, Smithers?" he bawled over the roar
of the train and the swirl of the wind, wagging his head and shaking
imperatively at Smithers' arm.

Smithers, a fussy little man, with more nerves than are good for an
engineer, turned, stared, caught a something in the fireman's face--and
tried to edge a little farther over on his seat. In the red,
flickering glare, Bradley's eyes had a look in them that wasn't sane,
and his figure, swaying with the heave of the cab, seemed to shoot back
and forth uncannily, grotesquely, in and out of the shadows.

"Martin, for God's sake, Martin," gasped the engineer, "what's wrong
with you?"

"You heard what I said," shouted Bradley, a sullen note in his voice,
gripping the engineer's arm still harder. "That's what it is, ain't
it? Why don't you answer?"

Smithers, frightened now, stared mutely. The headlight shot suddenly
from the glittering ribbons of steel far out into nothingness, flinging
a filmy ray across a canyon's valley, and mechanically Smithers checked
a little as they swung the curve. Then, with a deafening roar of
thunder racketing through the mountains, they swept into a cut, the
rock walls towering high on either side--and over the din Bradley's
voice screamed again--and again he shook Smithers' arm.

"Ain't it? D'ye hear--ain't it? Say--ain't it?"

"Y-yes," stammered Smithers weakly, with a gulp.

And then Bradley laughed--queerly.

"You're a damn fool, Smithers!" he flung out, with a savage jeer.
"What do you know about it!" And throwing the engineer's arm from him,
his shovel clanged and clanged again, as into the red maw before him he
shot the coal.

Smithers was scared. Bradley never said another word after that--just
kept to his own side of the cab, hugging his seat, staring through the
cab glass ahead, chin down on his breast, pulling the door at
intervals, firing at intervals like an automaton, then back to his seat
again. Smithers was scared.

At Elk River, the end of the local run, Smithers told the train crew
about it, and they laughed at him, and looked around to find out what
Martin Bradley had to say about it--but Bradley wasn't in sight.

Not much of a place, Elk River, not big enough for one to go anywhere
without the whole population knowing it; and it wasn't long before they
knew where Bradley was. The local ma