It was a star-lit night; but with the approach of the false dawn a misty curtain was drawn across the sky. The zenith looked as though it were covered with a vast milky way. On the earth, even where open fields bordered the tracks, the shadows became denser.
Too-hoo! Hoo! shrieked the whistle of the Midnight Flyer.
Those passengers sleeping so comfortably in their berths had no thought for the anxiety that tugged at the heart of the young engineer in the locomotive cab. Ralph hung out of the cab window as the pilot struck a short curve, and tried to catch a glimpse of the right of way ahead of the focal point of the headlight.
He saw the flash on the instant that the fireman pulled the whistle cord again—a long flash, then two short ones. It was the signal agreed upon by Bob Adair and his operatives to pull down any train they wished to board.
Ralph had not expected that the Midnight Flyer would be stopped on any pretext. He was all but willing to fly by without paying attention to the signal. Then memory of the warning he had received came to his mind and he shut off the power on the huge locomotive. He applied the brakes gently. The long train eased to almost a standstill.
Out of the brush beside the way popped a figure in a long coat. The man leaped the ditch and boarded the locomotive steps. Instantly Ralph threw off the brakes and opened the throttle. The man sagged into the seat behind the young engineer. The latter could hear the breath sobbing in the fellow’s throat. He glanced back at him and recognized one of Adair’s old operatives, Frank Haley.
“What under the sun’s the matter, Haley?” shouted Ralph, so that his companion might hear, for the wheels were drumming again.
“I’m not sure. I was back on the road at a house, telephoning, when the girl on the switchboard at Shadow Valley began to broadcast something that I got. I dropped the receiver and beat it so as to catch you.”
“What is the matter?” repeated Ralph anxiously.
“There’s been a wreck—a bad one.”