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Walcott, Earle Ashley, 1859-1931

"Blindfolded"


"Why, it's got to run, or we must take to saddle again for the rest of
the way."
"These horses can't go five miles more at that gait, let alone twenty-
five," protested Thatcher.
"Well, then, we must get other horses here."
"Come," said Fitzhugh; "what's the use of that when there's an engine
on the siding doing nothing?"
"Just the idea. Find the man in charge."
But there did not appear to be any man in charge. The engineer and
fireman were gone, and the watchman had been driven to cover by the
foul weather.
We looked the iron horse over enviously.
"Why, this is the engine that came up with the special this noon," said
Fitzhugh. "I remember the number."
"Good! We are ahead of the enemy, then. They haven't had a chance to
get the wire, and we beat them on the road. We must find the engineer
and get it ourselves."
"I've got an idea," said Fitzhugh. "It's this: why not take the machine
without asking? I was a fireman once, and I can run it pretty well."
I thought a moment on the risk, but the need was greater.
"Just the thing. Take the money for the horses to your friend there.
I'll open the switch."
In a few minutes Fitzhugh was back.
"I told him," he chuckled. "He says it's a jail offense, but it's the
only thing we can do."
"It may be a case of life and death," I said. "Pull out."
"There's mighty little steam here--hardly enough to move her," said
Fitzhugh from the cab, stirring the fire.
But as he put his hand to the lever she did move easily on to the main
track, and rested while I reset the switch.


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