"Huh! thought it must be a treasure train, or the pay car at the least!" snorted Fogg contemptuously, but thoroughly good-natured under the surface. When they backed down to the depot, Ralph was handed his flimsy orders. No. 999 was given standard special lights, with the usual markers at the rear of the sleeping car, but no one on platform charge. The coach had a conductor, but he barely showed himself, and went inside, where all the curtains were drawn and passengers evidently gone to sleep. "I told you it was going to rain," spoke Fogg, as they cleared the limits and got ready for a spurt. "All schedule cancelled where we can get clear tracks, I suppose? All right, let's see what 999 can do on slippery rails." No. 999 did famously, as she always did under the guidance of the vigilant young engineer. Ralph was learning a good deal lately, and his mind was always strictly on the business of the moment when at the throttle. He was learning that there was a science in running a locomotive a good deal deeper than merely operating throttle, brake and lever automatically. There was a way to conserve the steam energy and reserve wide-open tactics for full pressure that he had found out, which enabled him to spurt when the chance came, at no cost of exhaustion later. He knew the gauges by heart, how to utilize the exhaust, and worked something along the line of the new superheated steam theory. The night had set in very dark and very stormy. They had nothing to look out for, however, on the out track except an accommodation that had started two hours previous. No. 999 had a light load, and she sped along without a jar. The wires took care of her. By nine o'clock they were twenty miles "to the good" on regular schedule basis. After that it was slower progress. The wind had arisen to a hurricane, the rain came down in torrents, and as they passed Winston they began to get in among the hills, where there was a series of intricate and dangerous curves. "It's nearly a waterspout," observed Fogg, as the rain swept against the cab as if driven from a full pressure hose, and they could feel the staunch locomotive quiver as it breasted great sweeps of the wind. "I don't like that," he muttered, as a great clump came against the cab curtain. And he and his engineer both knew what it was from past experience. "One of those young landslides," spoke Ralph. "The second in a half-an-hour," declared Fogg. "It's clear mud, but sometime in one of these storms we'll get a big drop of rock, and there'll be mischief afoot." Ralph slowed as they entered a long stretch known as Widener's Gap. It was a pull up hill. Besides that, Widener was only two miles ahead, and the curves were so sharp and frequent that they could not catch the semaphore at any distance.