"It's a freight on the out track," said Ralph, peering ahead. "Two cars over the embankment and--" "For land's sake!" interrupted the fireman, "whiff! whoo! what have we run into, anyway?" A flying object came slam bang against the lookout window not two inches from Fogg's nose. A dozen more sailed over the cab roof. With a great flutter half of these dropped down into the cab direct. "Chickens!" roared Fogg in excitement and astonishment. "Say, did you ever see so many at one time? Where do they ever come from?" "From the wreck. Look ahead," directed Ralph. It was hard to do this, for a second flock of fowls thronged down upon them. Of a sudden there seemed to be chickens everywhere. They scampered down the rails, crouched to the pilot, roosted on the steam chests, lined up on the coal of the tender, while three fat hens clucked and skirmished under the very feet of the fireman, who was hopping about to evade the bewildering inrush. "I declare!" he ejaculated breathlessly. Far as Ralph could see ahead, stray fowls were in evidence. Feathers were flying, and a tremendous clatter and bustle was going on. They came limping, flying, rolling along the roadbed from the direction of a train standing stationary on the out track. In its center there was a gap. Thirty feet down the embankment, split in two, and a mere pile of kindling wood now, were two cars. The trucks of one of these and some minor wreckage littered the in track. Freight hands were clearing it away, and it was this temporary obstruction that had been the cause of the warning torpedo. A brakeman from the freight came to the passenger train to report what was doing. "Palace chicken car and a gondola loaded with boxes in the ditch beyond," he said. "We'll be cleaned up for you in a few minutes." "That's how the chickens come to be in evidence so numerously, it seems," remarked Ralph. "Say, see them among the wrecked wire netting, and putting for the timber!" exclaimed Fogg. "Fairbanks, there's enough poultry running loose to stock an eating house for a year. I say, they're nobody's property now. Suppose--here's two fat ones. I reckon I'll take that much of the spoil while it's going." With a vast chuckle the fireman grabbed two of the fowls under his feet and dumped them into his waste box, shutting down the cover. The conductor of the freight came up penciling a brief report. He handed it to the conductor of the Overland. "We'll wire from Luce," he explained, "but we may be delayed reaching there and you may get this to headquarters at the Junction first. Tell the claim agent there won't be salvage enough to fill a waybill. She's clear," with a glance down the track. The Overland proceeded slowly past the wreck, affording the crew and the curious passengers a view of the demolished freight lying at the bottom of the embankment. Once past this, Ralph set full steam to make up for lost time.