“We’re going mighty slow,” he said. “Most roads would go faster. But this road don’t take any chances. We won’t get you through on time, but we’ll get you through safe and sound, without the slightest chance of accident. I guess if we put it to a vote, most of you would vote for safety rather than speed,” and he looked around at the passengers with a smile.
“You bet we would,” assented one of the men, and there was less grumbling after that.
And yet there are few things more trying to the nerves than to ride in a train which may proceed no faster than a man can walk. An hour was consumed in covering five miles, and not a trace of the missing freight had been discovered. Another mile—and then Allan, staring forward through the night, saw the brakeman’s lantern waving violently.
“He’s found something,” he said, and the engineer nodded.
The next moment, a fusee flared redly through the darkness, lighting up the brakeman—and something on the track back of him—a dim shape—
“Why, it’s the train!” cried Allan. “And with its headlight out! And with no brakeman out to protect it! I don’t understand it!” And he sat with his brows knitted in thought as the train rolled slowly forward.
It stopped within thirty feet of the other train, and Allan swung himself to the ground and ran forward.
“What’s happened?” he asked the brakeman, who came to meet him. “Where’s the crew?”
“Blamed if I know,” answered the brakeman, in an awed voice. “There’s the train, but nary a trace of her crew could I find. She’s deserted!”