This series of accidents impressed deeply upon Allan’s mind the terrible peculiarity which belongs to railroading. In most of life’s ordinary occupations, a mistake may be retrieved; on the railroad, almost never. To make a mistake there is, almost inevitably, to sacrifice life and property. The railroad man who makes a mistake never has the chance to make a second one. If he survives the first one, his dismissal from the road’s employ will follow. Mistakes on a railroad are too expensive to risk them by employing careless men. The employés of the road breathed easier after the accident at Torch. Until the fatal three had occurred, every man feared that his turn would come next; now they knew that they were safe until another series was started. Whether it was from the increased self-confidence and self-control which this belief engendered, or whether there really was some basis for this railroad superstition, at any rate, no more accidents occurred, and the road’s operation proceeded smoothly and uneventfully. One exciting battle there was in late September. The fall rains had been unusually heavy and persistent; every little brook became a roaring torrent, loosening bridges and culverts, seeping under the road-bed, and demanding constant vigilance on the part of the section-gangs. As the rain continued without abating, the broad river, which usually flowed peacefully along far below the railroad embankment, rose foot by foot until the whole stretch of embankment along the river’s edge was threatened. Long trains of flat cars were hurried to the place, loaded with rock and bags of sand. These were dumped along the embankment, which was washing badly in places, and for a time it looked as though the encroachments of the water had been stopped. But the rain continued, and the river kept on rising, until it was seeping along the top of the embankment. If it once began to flow over it, nothing could save the track, for the water would slice away the earth beneath it in great sections. All the men that could be spared from the other portions of the road had been hurried to the scene. At the gravel-pit just below the city, a gang of fifty men was working, filling heavy sacks and loading them on flat cars. A great steam-shovel was heaping the loose gravel upon other cars, and, as soon as enough were loaded to make a train, they were hurried away to the danger point. During that culminating day, no effort was made to preserve the train schedule. The work-trains were given the right of way, and even the lordly east-bound passengers had to flag through from the embankment to the gravel-pit. Train-master and superintendent were on the spot, directing where the gravel should be dumped, and watching anxiously the gauge which marked the rise of the water. Another inch and it would be over the embankment. But from the last inspection of the gauge Mr. Schofield arose with a shout of triumph.