“There's mighty little steam here—hardly enough to move her,” said Fitzhugh from the cab, stirring the fire.
But as he put his hand to the lever she did move easily on to the main track, and rested while I reset the switch.
Then I climbed back into the cab, and sank down before the warm blaze in a stupor of faintness as the engine glided smoothly and swiftly down the track.
CHAPTER XXV. A FLUTTER IN THE MARKET
The gray pall of the storm hung over San Francisco. The dim light of the morning scarcely penetrated into the hallways as we climbed the stairs that led to our lodgings, leaving behind us the trail of dripping garments. I heaved a sigh of relief as Trent opened the door, and we once more faced the pleasing prospect of warmth, dry clothing and friends.
We had made the run from Niles without incident, and had left the engine on a siding at Brooklyn without being observed. If the railroad company still has curiosity, after all these years, to know how that engine got from Niles to Brooklyn, I trust that the words I have just written may be taken as an explanation and apology.
“Where's Barkhouse?” I asked, becoming comfortable once more with dry clothes, a warm room and a fresh bandage on my arm.
“He hasn't shown up, sir,” said Trent. “Owens and Larson went out to look for him toward evening yesterday, but there wasn't a sign of him.”