Haley smote Ralph on the shoulder, a congratulatory blow.
“Good boy, Fairbanks!” he shouted. “I thought you were running us into a hot corner one while. But you certainly know your business. How far are we from that wreck?”
Ralph could figure that out exactly after a glance at the first numbered signpost. He increased the speed of the train on the instant.
Not far ahead now lay the scene of the disaster, of which they had secured so few particulars. Timber Brook, the little settlement mentioned in the message that had been passed up to him at Shadow Valley Station, was already in sight.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE WRECK
There was a red lamp out for the Flyer just beyond Timber Brook. Ralph pulled down to a crawl and set the pilot of his engine almost against the lamp that had been placed between the rails. Around the next turn was the wreckage of Number 33.
A white-faced section hand came to Ralph’s side of the cab while the detectives climbed down and started ahead along the right of way.
“What happened to her?” the young engineer asked the laborer.
“They set up two ties between the rails and the old mill was thrown off the track. It carried half the train with it. Only one car—the smoker—overturned, but everybody was badly shaken up.”
“How many killed?” gasped Ralph anxiously.