“I must stop the runaway!”
He muttered the words and his jaws squared. Now that he was in a position of peril, he never felt cooler in his life. Again he looked back at the oncoming engine, calmly measuring the distance between them.
He wondered why the operator had not received notice before of the runaway, but there was little time then to speculate on that point.
As he looked back, he became aware that the runaway was not making much over twenty miles an hour. It was evident that her steam was running down, and she was nearing the end of her wild trip.
Then Frank became confident. He knew well enough that there was a clear track ahead, but it would be necessary to whistle for crossings whenever possible. Four miles away was a hard grade.
“I’ll stop her there,” he decided.
He set about regulating the speed of 91 so that he could keep clear of the runaway, and still the wild engine was permitted to creep nearer and nearer.
It gave Frank a creepy feeling to see her coming up silently, without sound of bell or whistle, and with no human being in her cab.
When the stretch of woods at the foot of the grade was reached, the runaway was not over four rods away. Then Frank permitted her to come nearer and nearer till the nose of her pilot was right under the tender of 91.
Then Frank left the cab and scrambled back over the tender, swinging down onto the pilot of the runaway. He worked swiftly, fearing the wild engine might give out and let 91 get away, but this did not happen, and he succeeded in coupling the two.