“Hurrah!” he cried, with boyish enthusiasm. “I have her!”
Back along the running board he went and soon was in the cab. He found she was hooked up to within one short notch of the center. Her cylinder cocks were open.
It did not take Merry a moment to shut off steam, so that the runaway was helpless, but in that moment he discovered the cause of the runaway—a weak throttle latch-spring.
Back to 91 Merry made his way, and soon both engines were at a standstill. He had successfully captured the runaway.
There was a crowd waiting when Frank backed to the yards with the wild engine. Sam Hobson was there, looking pale but relieved, and a gang of brakemen and switch-tenders welcomed the hero of the adventure with cheer after cheer.
CHAPTER XXVII.
FRANK’S FRIENDS.
“Well done, boy!” cried Hobson, as he swung into the cab. “No man could have done better. But I’ll get it in the neck for being away from the engine. I’ll have to lie about it.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Frank; “but I think that would be the very worst thing you could do.”
“Hey? Well, you don’t suppose I’m going to tell that I was off to get a drink?”