“I’ve just been too near to death to feel like lying,” returned the man in a sickly attempt at humor, “So I might as well own up that for a second or so I could hear a few harps twanging. My heart’s still somewhere around the place where I swallow.”
“You’ve got grit,” vouchsafed the Fighter, straining his eyes to pierce through the mist in front of them, “Man’s made of dust, the parsons say; but I guess there was plenty of sand sprinkled in yours an’ mine. An’ I like you better for not bein’ ashamed to tell you was afraid. The brave man ain’t the one who don’t get scared; he’s the feller who’s scared stiff and goes ahead just the same. I guess I’ll have to change that new job of yours from pass’nger engineer to somethin’ in my own office. Now, chase back to your work. I’ve got other things to think of besides jawin’ with you.”
The Junction was reached and passed. No longer on his own road, Conover was less certain that the way would be left clear for him. Yet his telegrams had had effect. The line was open, and he sent his locomotive along with no let-up in its terrific speed.
“I’ll make it,” he said once, under his breath. “If Bourke can only hold ’em—if he can only hold ’em!”
Over went the lever, and with another shrill shriek the engine slackened speed. They had rounded a bend. Directly in front was a station. Beside it stood a long train, blocking the single track. In a bound, Conover was out of the cab. Shouting to the fireman to follow, he set off at a run through the mud puddles that lined the right of way.
“Whatcher stoppin’ for?” he demanded of the conductor who stood by one of the rear cars.
“Waiting for the Directors of the road,” answered the conductor. “They’re lunching up at the President’s house. They were due here three minutes ago. This train’s a local, so we’re holding it till—”
Conover heard no more but broke again into a run; heading for the engine.
“Do you mind gettin’ into trouble?” he panted to the fireman at his side, “I’ll stand by you.”
“You’re the boss,” replied the man, laconically, putting on a fresh burst of speed to keep up with his employer.