spiteful lurch of the car flung them both across the compartment.

"Say Uncle Somerville," she amended. "Don't charge it to Mr. McGrath.
Can't we go out on the platform?"

"It's as much as your life is worth," he asserted, but he opened the
door for her.

The car was backing swiftly up the grade with the engine behind
serving as a "pusher." At first the fiercely-driven snow-whirl made
Virginia gasp. Then the speed slackened and she could breathe and see.

The shrilling wheels were tracking around a curve into a scanty
widening of the canyon. To the left, on the rails of the new line, the
big octopod was heaving and grunting in the midst of an army of
workmen swarming thick upon the overturned guard engine.

"Goodness! it's like a battle!" she shuddered. As she spoke the
Rosemary stopped with a jerk and McGrath's fireman darted past to set
the spur-track switch.

The points were snow-clogged, and the fireman wrestled with the lever,
saying words. The delay was measurable in heart-beats, but it
sufficed. The big octopod coughed thrice like a mighty giant in a
consumption; the clustering workmen scattered like chaff to a ringing
shout of "Stand clear!" and the obstructing mass of iron and steel
rolled, wallowing and hissing, into the stream.

"Rails to the front! Hammermen!" yelled Winton; and the scattered
force rallied instantly.