“I’m going for the section-boss, and see if we can’t board the runaways from the hand-car,” he explained as he caught up and began struggling into his coat. “I did that once at Bixton—boarded an engine.”
“Board it! How?”
“Run ahead of it, and let it catch us.”
Saunders sprang for the lantern, lit it, and catching it up, Alex was out the door, and off across the tracks through the still pouring rain for the lights of the section foreman’s house. Darting through the gate, he ran about to the kitchen door, and without ceremony flung it open. The foreman was at the table, at his supper. He started to his feet.
“Joe, there is a wild ore train coming down from the Canyon,” explained Alex breathlessly, “and the wire has failed east so we can’t clear the line. Couldn’t we get the jigger out and board the runaways by letting them catch us?”
An instant the section-boss stared, then with the promptitude of the old railroader seized his cap, exclaiming “Go ahead!” and together they dashed out to the gate, and across the tracks in the direction of the tool-house.
“Where did they start from? How many cars?” asked the foreman as they ran.
“Indian Canyon. Ten, and all loaded.”
The section-man whistled. “They’ll be going twenty-five or thirty miles an hour. We will be taking a big chance. But if we can catch them just over the grade beyond the sand-pits I guess we can do it. That will have slackened them.
“Here we are.”