Golden Days for Boys and Girls, Vol. XII, Jan. 3, 1891 | Page 9

fan my face, and the engine no longer shook as if
upon uncertain footing.
"We had passed the bridge in safety, and I drew a breath of relief. Then
another curve in the track brought us into full view of the burning
structure, and feeling we were now safe from pursuit, I checked the
engine's speed, so we could watch the fire.
"We hadn't watched long before a cloud of sparks flew into the
darkness, and one span of the doomed bridge fell into the water. The
other must soon follow.
"I felt a dizziness creeping over me then, and the next I knew I was
lying on the ground, with an anxious circle of men and women bending
over me. You see my arm had been bleeding all of the time, and the
loss of blood, with the strain of the awful ordeal, had been too much for
me.
"But my arm had been bandaged, and I was soon able to resume my old
post, which I did, running the train to Los Angeles without further
adventure.
"Strange enough, Gerardo and his followers were not seen after that
night. But I had got tired of that country, and I soon after came up this
way. I have never regretted it, either.
"But now comes the strange part of my story, and which recalled my
adventure so vividly. There is a man on this train who is the exact
image of Gerardo!"
"Whew!" exclaimed the other. "Do you really think it is he?"
"I can't say. The likeness is perfect, even to the scar."
"I have heard of cases where two persons looked so much alike you
could not tell them apart."
"Very true, and this may be one of them. There is a slight difference

here, too, for this man wears side-whiskers. But his beard is not heavy
enough to conceal the scar."
"Do you remember where he is going?"
"To Woodsville; and he inquired for Jack Ingleside. Seemed surprised
when I told him Jack was dead. Said he was a relative, and he asked all
about the family. Here we are at the Big Y. This is as far as I go."
CHAPTER III.
An impatient crowd was waiting at the Big Y station for the northern
mail, which was half an hour overdue.
Finally, when the engine thundered into the depot, puffing and panting
like an over-driven steed, there was a rush to board the train, as if the
time was limited to the shortest possible space.
"It's going to be a rough night," muttered the old engineer, as he peered
out of the cab window into the gathering gloom of storm and darkness.
"I never felt so uneasy in my life, and I have a presentiment something
is going to happen--as if it wasn't enough to be half an hour behind time
and your engine in the sulks. But how are you feeling, Gilly?"
addressing his fireman. "Any better?"
"No, Jockey; and I am afraid I won't be able to go through. I don't
understand it, for I felt well enough when I started."
"I tell you everything is wrong to-night. If Jim were here--Hilloa!
there's Jack Ingleside's boy, as true as I live! We're in luck. Hi, Rock!
aren't you lost?"
At the sound of the engineer's voice, our hero, who was following
leisurely the crowd to one of the cars, looked in that direction to see the
soot-begrimed countenance of his old friend.
"Lost, Jockey? Never where you are," replied the youth.

"Going up? Jump in here, then. It won't be like riding in a parlor-car,
but it will suit you just as well, I'm thinking."
Rock showed his willingness by springing quickly into the cab.
Railroad companies have a rule forbidding persons to ride with the
engineer without permission from the president or superintendent,
though at the time we write this matter was not as rigidly looked after
as now.
Rock, however, who had passed nearly all his young life on the
foot-board, would have been deemed an exception to any rule. At least,
so thought Jockey Playfair, the veteran "knight of the lever" on the Pen
Yan mail and accommodation.
But Jockey's usual good-humor had been relegated to the background
on that evening, as Rock soon saw.
The signal to start was given, and with a full head of steam on, the old
engine, trembling and groaning from her pent-up power, began to creep
ahead, as if feeling her way along the switches and through the yard,
going faster and faster at every revolution of her wheels, until the
station-lights faded in the distance, and she plowed boldly into the
night.
The tall form of the engineer, clothed in greasy overalls and jumper,
stood at his post like a grim sentinel on duty, his