“Well, he was pullin’ up th’ hill at Torch, an’ th’ engine had on every pound she could carry. There was a big wind whistlin’ down th’ cut, an’ we could hear th’ fire a-roarin’ when th’ fireman pulled open th’ door t’ throw in some more coal. Th’ minute th’ door was open, the wind jest seemed t’ sweep int’ thet fire-box, an’ the first thing I knew, a big sheet o’ flame was shootin’ right out in my face. I went back over that tender like a rabbit, without stoppin’ t’ argy th’ why an’ th’ wherefore, an’ when I got back t’ th’ front platform o’ th’ baggage-car, I found that Tom an’ his fireman had come, too. “We stood there a minute, hardly darin’ t’ breathe, a-watchin’ thet fire. It licked out at th’ cab, an’ quicker’n I kin tell it, th’ wood was blazin’ away in great shape. Then, all of a sudden, I happened t’ think o’ somethin’ that sent a cold chill down my back, an’ made me sick an’ weak. Here was we poundin’ along at forty miles an hour, with orders t’ take th’ sidin’ fer Number Three at th’ Junction, five mile ahead. It looked to me as though they’d be about a thousand people killed inside of a mighty few minutes.” He stopped to take a fresh chew of tobacco, and Allan saw that his hands were trembling at the memory of that fearful moment. “Well,” he continued, “as I was a-sayin’, I could feel my hair a-raisin’ right up on my head. I looked around at Tom, an’ I could tell by his set face that he was thinkin’ of th’ same thing I was. “‘Boys,’ he says, low-like, ‘I’m goin’ forrerd. I’ve got to shet her off. I hadn’t no business t’ run away.’ “An’ without waitin’ fer either o’ us t’ answer, forrerd he went, climbin’ over th’ coal an’ down into th’ burnin’ cab. It was like goin’ into a furnace, but he never faltered—right on he went—right on into th’ fire—an’ in a minute I felt th’ jerk as he reversed her an’ threw on th’ brakes. It seemed t’ me as though we’d never come to a stop, but we did, an’ then th’ brakeman an’ me went forrerd over th’ coal t’ git Tom out. But it warn’t no use. He was layin’ dead on his seat, still holdin’ to th’ throttle. “We lifted him down, an’ by that time th’ conductor an’ a lot o’ th’ passengers come a-runnin’ up. An’ then folks begun tellin’ me my face was burned,” and Pat indicated his scars with a rapid gesture. “Till then, I’d never even felt it. When y’re in it, y’ know, y’ only feel it fer others, not fer yourself.” That ended the story-telling. There was something in that tale of sacrifice which made other tales seem idle and empty.