“We’ll have to stay here,” he told the engineer.
“Stay here? Well, I guess not,” replied Henshaw. “Orders say 'on time’ at the west end. If you’re going to stay with this train, swing on and make it snappy. We’re going to run for it.”
The conductor protested but the engineer set his train in motion and the conductor finally swung on one of the mail cars and climbed inside.
The 1064 picked up speed rapidly and they rolled down on the fire.
“Duck down behind the boiler when I yell,” said the engineer and Tim and the fireman nodded that they understood.
The distance between the pilot and the flames was decreasing rapidly. Tim slid off the box behind the engineer and clung to one side of the cab. The world ahead was a wall of fire that leaped toward the heavens. Tim heard the engineer yell and he ducked behind the head of the boiler.
The engine swayed sickeningly but held to the steel. There was the roar of the fire, the stifling heat that seemed to sear its way into his lungs, hot brands filled the cab and he felt his hair scorching in the terrific heat. Then the engine stumbled onto cool steel and they were through the burning timber and into the cool night air again.
Tim shook the cinders from his hair and straightened up. He looked for the engineer and found Henshaw industriously beating out tongues of flame which were licking around the window. Between flailing his arms at the fire he would stop momentarily to widen out on the throttle as the 1064 swung into her stride again.
The reporter turned to the fireman’s side of the cab. Benson was missing.
With a cry of alarm, Tim summoned the engineer from his side of the cab.