Harvey looked forward, but could see nothing. Jawn, however, gradually slackened speed until they were barely moving. Mallory appeared on the tender and came over the coal to the apron, where he stood leaning out with one arm around the cab door-post. The fireman heaped a shovel with coal, and staggering wearily into the cab he knocked open the door of the fire-box from which a dull glow tempered the darkness. Harvey seated himself on the fireman's seat, holding himself stiffly erect and trying to distinguish the track before. Jawn slowly brought the train to a stop.
“What is it?” asked Harvey. “See anything ahead?”
“No. We're about two hundred yards from the curve.”
Harvey turned to Mallory.
“We'd better throw out a few men ahead, Mallory, to see that the track is clear.”
“Haven't got many left, not more than half a dozen altogether.”
Harvey stepped down and stretched his tired limbs.
“I'll go myself,” he said. “Call one of your men up here.”
Mallory climbed back on the tender and whistled. A man who had been sitting on the steps of the first car came forward.
“You wait here, Donohue,” said Harvey. “If everything is all right, I'll come back.” He struck a match and looked at his watch. “We've been taking time enough. It's three-fifteen now. I'll walk along the top of the cut on the left-hand side, and you “—to the detective—“you take the other side. Keep within easy hail—” He paused abruptly. Through the crisp night air came the roll and snort of an engine. There was a long silence in the cab.