They did work with a will. There was no need for anybody to urge them. They, also, heard the low rumble of wheels along the distant track, the shiver and tremble of the rails. The heavy ties rolled down—fast and faster. The way was almost clear. There was only one tie left and that—
A man turned to look over his shoulder. “The train! The train! It’s on us!”
The whole gang leaped to safety and waited. The one big timber still lay crosswise above the trestle. It meant destruction. They knew it, Mary Jane knew it. They could not move; but she could. That menacing log should not destroy!
Ah! but those long, strong, useful arms of hers stood her in good stead just then. All the strength of her body was in them. The crutches went, she knew not where. She was lying flat, forcing, pushing, compelling that last tie down, over the edge. The train was almost there. She knew that, also, but she felt no fear. She must do her task—she must—she could!
The men on the bank watched breathless, but not one went to her aid. Even William Bump seemed stricken to stone.
There came a crash. The log was over—the track was clear!
But where was Mary Jane?
As he rounded the curve just before the trestle the engineer had seen the child upon the track, but though he instantly reversed his engine the train could not be brought to a stand-still till it had quite crossed the openwork space, and he stepped down from it with horror in his heart.
A horror which quickly changed to a shout of joy, though the peril was yet not over.
Again these long, strong arms had done their owner good service. As the train came upon the trestle she slipped down and dropped between the ties, clinging to one for her life. She scarcely heard now that rumble and roar above her; all her consciousness was fixed in the clutch of her fingers upon that cross-beam.