“How much time we got?” asked the latter, for only the foreman of the gang could afford to carry a watch.
“Twelve minutes.”
“That’s aisy! We kin make it in eight without half-tryin’!”
“All right!” and Jack thrust the watch back into his pocket. “Pile on, boys!”
And pile on they did, bringing their tools with them. They seized the levers, and in a moment the car was spinning down the track. There was something fascinating and invigorating in the motion. As they pumped up and down, Allan could see the fields, fences, and telegraph-poles rushing past them. It seemed to him that they were going faster even than the “flier.” The wind whistled against him and the car jolted back and forth in an alarming way.
“Hold tight!” yelled Reddy, and they flashed around a curve, across a high trestle, through a deep cut, and down a long grade on the other side. Away ahead he could see the chimneys of the town nestling among the trees. They were down the grade in a moment, and whirling along an embankment that bordered a wide and placid river, when the car gave a sudden, violent jolt, ran for fifty feet on three wheels, and then settled down on the track again.
“Stop her!” yelled the foreman. “Stop her!”
They strained at the levers, but the car seemed alive and sprang away from them. Twice she almost shook them off, then sullenly succumbed, and finally stopped.
“Somethin’s th’ matter back there!” panted Jack. “Give her a shove, Reddy!”
Reddy jumped off and started her back up the track. In a moment the levers caught, and they were soon at the place where the jolt had occurred.