“The wreck may be on the eastbound track,” he observed.
“You’re right at that!” exclaimed Ralph. “We pass Number Thirty-three, eastbound passenger, this side of the Devil’s Den. Where would she be about now? Let’s see.”
Without looking at the printed schedule which every trainman carries, Ralph figured out from his memory of the train dispatcher’s orders which he had himself formulated the locality of Number 33 if it was on time.
“That Thirty-three comes clear from the Junction, doesn’t she?” asked Haley, over Ralph’s shoulder.
“Yes. She leaves Shelby Junction at ten-forty——”
The young fellow halted in his speech. A new thought stabbed him to the quick. Cherry Hopkins had telegraphed her father that she was leaving Shelby Junction at that hour. If anything had happened to Number 33 this girl was aboard it!
He said nothing more to Haley, but gave his strict attention to the running of the train. But the specter of the wreck ahead took on a grimmer cast in Ralph Fairbanks’ mind.
If there was any way of coaxing more speed out of the big locomotive, the engineer put it to the test now. The run between Fryburg and Shadow Valley Station was not a long one, at best. He had lost two minutes in shutting down to let Frank Haley aboard. Ralph recovered those two minutes and steamed into the next stop with another minute to spare.
Early morning though it was, the station platform was thronged. Ahead, as Ralph and his crew could now see, the sky was blood red. The forest fire must be of great consequence and burning a big area in the Shadow Valley basin.
The fire had called the curious together at the railroad; but news of the wreck on the far side of the valley was likewise rife. The station agent himself was on hand and brought the engineer and conductor the messages. They read: