We went to the engine-house, and lifted one of the platform cars on the track. The Lake Shore Railroad, as I had found by running the dummy, had a slight descent from Middleport to Spangleport. We pushed the car, running behind it, till we had worked it up to a high rate of speed, and then leaped upon the platform. The impetus thus given to it kept it going for a mile, when the motive power was applied again, as before. In this manner we ran three miles, without making very hard work of it, and came in sight of the dummy.
“There she is!” exclaimed Faxon. “The fellows did not go a great way in her.”
“No! but they went as far as they could,” I replied, as soon as I had examined the situation of the car, which was not in motion when we discovered it.
“How do you know?”
“She’s off the track.”
“That’s too bad!”
For my own part I was rather glad the enterprise of the runaways had been nipped in the bud, for I had a professional contempt for those who attempt to run an engine when they know nothing about one. I only hoped the dummy and the boys were not injured. As we approached nearer to the scene of the disaster, we saw the conspirators hard at work trying to get the dummy on the track.
“What are you about, you spoonies!” shouted Faxon, as we stopped the car close to the unfortunate dummy.
“We are trying to get the thing on the track,” replied Briscoe, as coolly as though he had done nothing wrong.
“How came she out here?” demanded Faxon.