Bob was facing the way in which they were going and he was conscious that it was like sliding down a great hill, for the cable above him dipped towards the center. There was little time for thought, however, as the bucket lost no time in gathering headway. At one moment it was almost still, the next it was whistling through the air.
The first down rush was glorious. Not until he started to climb up the other incline of the cable did Bob give any thought to the speed he was making. There was a slight slackening in the rush through the air, but so quickly was the whole journey over that Bob’s first impression was the one that he slipped off the bucket with when it touched ground at the foot of the west tower.
Billy had been a sport! He had shot Bob just as far over as he could and the boy was correspondingly grateful.
The inspection trips he had made outside of working hours now proved a great help, for he knew the quickest way to the place the Chief was supposed to be. Setting out on a run he was soon there. Mr. Whitney was engaged in conversation with the foreman but broke off as the boy rushed up.
“What’s the row, Bob?” he wanted to know.
“Need you—quick—over at the east spillway—wall giving way—” But faster than the words could tremble out, the Chief was acting.
“Come along,” he directed. “Talk as we go!”
He made tracks for a dinky engine that was hitched to a load of empties.
“Uncouple!” he yelled to the engineer. As he and Bob swung into the cab, the little locomotive was already moving slowly. “To the east bank, quick!” he ordered and caught the whistle cord. The prolonged screech told the switchmen and other trains that something serious was afoot, and that the line must be cleared.
“Know anything else?” demanded the Chief as the engine rocked crazily on the narrow gauge track, and when Bob shook his head, asked, “How did you get over?”