Golden Days for Boys and Girls, Vol. XII, Jan. 3, 1891 | Page 5

rooms, was fixed upon him who stood at the iron railing encircling the chief's desk.
He was not over sixteen years of age, of medium size, poorly clad, and evidently used to hard work. But his features, though browned with a deep coat of tan and bountifully sprinkled with freckles, made up an honest, manly-looking countenance, while the blue eyes met the railroad superintendent's sterner gaze with an unflinching light.
Everything had seemed to work that day at cross-purposes with Superintendent Lyons, and he was in no humor to parley with the poor boy, who had thrust himself into his presence with more boldness than discretion.
But the very attitude of the youthful applicant, as he stood there with uncovered head, respectfully waiting for his answer, showed he was not to be put off with the ordinary excuse.
General Lyons was so favorably impressed with his appearance of quiet determination that he was fain to ask:
"You say you have come from Woodsville, a hundred miles, for a situation on the road?"
"Yes, sir."
"And that you have recently been discharged from our employ? I must say, your audacity is only equaled by your frankness."
"But, sir, it was no fault of mine. I was trying to do my duty."
"Give me the particulars in as few words as possible."
"Thank you, sir. I have worked on Section 66 nearly two years--"
"Let me see," interrupted the superintendent, "that extends from Trestle Summit to Wood's Hollow."
"Yes, sir."
"The most troublesome section on the entire line of the road. But go on with your story."
"It's a bad section, sir, and it usually takes five regular hands to keep it in repair. But for two weeks a couple of the men have been off on account of illness, while our foreman, Mr. Gammon, has not been on duty half of the time. This left one man, with myself, to look after the road. That, with the rains we have been having, has given us more than we could do as it ought to be done. But Mr. Gammon refused to put on any more help, so Mr. Baxter and I have done the best we could.
"Day before yesterday it was after dark when we had finished a repair which had taken us all the afternoon, at Trestle Summit, the extreme upper end of our section.
"The northern mail train was then due, and we were waiting for that to pass, so we could have a clear track to go home, when a man, coming from the direction of Woodsville, told us the bridge, two miles beyond the station, had been washed away. The stranger didn't look like an honest man; and we knew, if he had been, he would told them at the station. But the bridge had been threatened for several days, and, as we had not seen it for thirty-six hours, we knew there was more than an even chance that the tramp was right.
"Mr. Gammon had promised to look to it that day; but he so seldom did as he would talk that we did not believe he had been near it. If it was so, every life on the train was in peril, and, as I have said, it was then time for it to come along.
"So Mr. Baxter and I decided to signal the train, and tell them of the situation. But it was raining hard then, the wind was blowing furiously, and our matches were damp, so we worked in vain to make a torch. It was too dark for our flag to be seen. We had no way to stop the train. At that moment we heard its whistle in the distance and knew it would soon reach us.
"We were on the backbone of Trestle Summit, where, either way, the track descends at a sharp grade for over three miles. It was nearly six miles to Woodsville; but I knew while the mail was climbing the up grade we could get well on toward the station. So I said to Mr. Baxter:
"'Let's take our hand-car and go on ahead of the train. It's our only chance.'
"We weren't long in getting the car upon the track. But we had barely sprung aboard when the mail head-light burst into sight less than half a mile away!
"'We are too late!' gasped Mr. Baxter; and, whether from fright, excitement or illness, he fell in a swoon.
"The car had started down the grade. Pulling Mr. Baxter on, so he would not fall off, I lent my strength to the car's momentum, and we shot down the track like lightning.
[Illustration: ROCK STARTED FORWARD AND UTTERED A CRY OF TERROR AS HE SAW THE GLEAM OF A HEADLIGHT AND AN ENGINE AND TRAIN.]
"In my excitement, I had forgotten that it would require my arm to hold in check the speed of the car. In fact,