been no sign of it as she passed. Perhaps something had gone wrong with
the brakes. Or could the track have--

The agent tilted sharply forward, his lithe frame tense. A long drawn,
quivering shriek came down-wind to him. It was repeated. Then short and
sharp, piercing note on piercing note, sounded the shrill, clamant
voice.

The great engine of Number Three was yelling for help.




CHAPTER II


Banneker came out of his chair with a spring.

"Help! Help! Help! Help! Help!" screamed the strident voice.

It was like an animal in pain and panic.

For a brief instant the station-agent halted at the door to assure
himself that the call was stationary. It was. Also it was slightly
muffled. That meant that the train was still in the cut. As he ran to
the key and sent in the signal for Stanwood, Banneker reflected what
this might mean. Crippled? Likely enough. Ditched? He guessed not. A
ditched locomotive is usually voiceless if not driverless as well.
Blocked by a slide? Rock Cut had a bad repute for that kind of accident.
But the quality of the call predicated more of a catastrophe than a mere