Kit nodded and set off as fast as possible along the track. The plain in front was dark, the savage wind buffeted him, and the snow got thick. Sometimes he struck his foot against a tie; sometimes he plunged into the rough, frozen ballast, and he wondered whether he ought not to have gone back for two or three men and a trolley. To get the men and put the trolley on the rails would, however, occupy some time, and he did not think Alison was far off. When she found the gravel train was gone she would return to the bridge.
For all that, Kit was anxious. As a rule, one did not get a blizzard in spring, but the wind got colder and his hands were numb. The snow was dry and its dryness implied that the thermometer went far below freezing-point. Then had Alison kept the track, he ought to have seen her from the window of the locomotive cab.
His breath got short and his side began to hurt. Stopping for a moment, he tried to shout, but he doubted if his hoarse voice carried fifty yards. The snow beat his face and all he saw was the tossing flakes. Lowering his head, he pushed on stubbornly although he began to wonder whether he and Alison could reach the bridge. She would be exhausted, and he himself had had enough.
Not far ahead the track curved round broken ground and a short trestle carried the rails across a ravine. The carpenters who built the bridge had put up a small turf shack, and Kit resolved when he met Alison he would try to reach the spot. If they got there, he might stop the rail train.
After a time he fancied something moved in the snow, and he shouted. He heard a faint cry, and plunging forward, collided with an indistinct white object.
“Alison!” he gasped, and she clung to him.
Kit put his arm round her. “Brace up! How far’s the ravine?”
“I crossed the bridge not long since, but the camp’s the other way,” said Alison faintly.
“We’re going to the carpenters’ shack. Come on!” said Kit.
To advance was awkward. Alison was exhausted, Kit was tired, and one could hardly face the gale. For all that, unless they got to the shack, Kit knew they would freeze. Feeling for the rails with his boots, he kept the track, and by and by saw a white mound three or four yards in front. The door was not gone, and forcing it open Kit pushed Alison into the hut. Then he pulled off his skin coat, and after breaking two or three matches, got a light.