“Yes, it will. I’ll make it,” assured Tom, running forward. “They wouldn’t go on and leave you here to die!”
Uncertain as to how he would do it, but determined to stop the train at all hazard, Tom flew for the track.
Around the long curve swept the Pacific Coast Limited, due in Beaufort at 3:21. The engineer, peering ahead, was startled to see, planted between the rails in the rapidly nearing distance, a boy with a gun in each hand, threatening the advance of the train.
The engineer opened the whistle valve, and the engine sounded its angry, impatient command: “Out of the way!”
Tom saw the white flare of steam, and a second later heard the quick shriek of warning. But he never budged. He only waved his arms and guns.
He tried to make the engineer know; now he flourished the guns, and now he patted his left shoulder, and now he pointed off toward Ned, and wept aloud in his fear that he was not being understood.
The engineer and the fireman noted the gestures, and saw that the boy stubbornly stood and budged not.
It seemed to be a question of either slowing down or running over him.
To Tom it was a question of either saving Ned or being run over.