"Good for you," said Ralph, and he started back to the relay station. "Mr. Glidden," he spoke rapidly, as he came again into the operating room. "There is no time to lose. All we know is that a wild engine is to be sent down the north branch." "Yes, that's all we know, and no way to stop it," replied Glidden. "There may be a way. Ninety-three is fired up for a fly down the dump to Acton." "Aha!" nodded the old operator, pricking up his ears with interest. "I don't say it, but it may be that we can get to the branch before the runaway does." "Suppose so?" "We'll set the switch and ditch her." "Good boy!" "I have no orders, though." "I'll give them to you--I'll fix it up with headquarters. Fire away." Ralph was out of the relay station and down the tracks in a hurry. Roberts was bustling about and had fired up the old switch locomotive as if ordered for a mile-a-minute dash. "What's the programme?" he inquired simply. "To reach the north branch just as quick as we can." "All right. You'll run her?" "Yes." "You know how." Ralph was delighted with his helper. Roberts made no delay, asked no questions. Ralph was all nerved up with the exploit in view. Their destination was a good forty miles to the northwest. The dump tracks comprised practically an abandoned line, and, as Ralph knew, was free of either freight or passenger traffic at that hour. It was occasionally used as a cut-off in cases of emergency. The roadbed was somewhat neglected and uneven, but he had run over it twice within a few months, and as they started out Roberts announced that their special orders had shown clear tracks. The route was a varied one, and there were some odd old-fashioned curves and a few hair-raising ten per cent. grades. No. 93 buckled down to work right royally. There were two switches to unset, and then right again before they left the main line. At these points Roberts ran ahead and did emergency duty. As they slid off onto the dump tracks, Ralph consulted the clock in the cab, estimated distance and set his running pace. "She acts like a pet lamb," he observed approvingly to Roberts after a five-mile spurt. "Yes, she'll chase to terminus all right if the coal holds out," replied the fireman. "There's a bunch of sharp curves and steep grades ahead." "Here's one of them, see," said Ralph, and he pushed back the throttle and let the locomotive move on its own momentum. The sturdy little engine wheezed through cuts, grunted up grades and coughed down them. "She's only an old tub," submitted Roberts, though fondly; "but how do you like her, anyway?" "Famous!" declared Ralph, warming to his work. The run for a good twenty miles was a series of jarring slides, the wheels pounding the rails and straining towards a half tip over a part of the time.