“There it comes,” said the foreman a moment after, and listening Alex heard a sound as of distant thunder.
“How long before they’ll be here?”
“Five minutes, perhaps. And now,” said the section-boss, “just how are we going to work this thing?”
“Well, when we boarded the engine at Bixton,” explained Alex, getting his breath, “we simply waited at the head of a grade until it was within about two hundred yards of us, then lit out just as hard as we could go, and as she bumped us, we jumped.”
“All right. We’ll do the same.”
As the foreman spoke, the rain, which had decreased to a drizzle, entirely ceased, and a moment after the moon appeared. He and Alex at once turned toward the station.
Just beyond was a long, black, snake-like object, shooting along the rails toward them.
The runaway!
On it swept over the glistening irons, the rumble quickly increasing to a roar. With an echoing crash it flashed by the station, and on.
Nearer it came, the cars leaping and writhing; roaring, pounding, screeching.