trial. But now the engineer shook his bead.

"I ain't the artist to move her gently enough with all that string o'
dinkeys behind her," he said unhopefully.

"No?" said Winton. "Come up into the cab with and I'll show you how."
And he climbed to the driver's footboard with the doubting engineer at
his heels.

The reversing-lever went over with a clash; the air whistled into the
brakes; and Winton began to ease the throttle open. The steam sang
into the cylinders, the huge machine trembling like a living thing
under the hand of a master.

Slowly and by almost imperceptible degrees the life of the pent-up
boiler power crept into the pistons and out through the connecting
rods to the wheels. With the first thrill of the gripping tires Winton
leaned from the window to watch the derailed trucks climb by
half-inches up the inclined planes of the frogs.

At the critical instant, when the entire weight of the forward half of
the engine was poising for the drop upon the rails, he gave the
precise added impulse. The big ten-wheeler coughed hoarsely and spat
fire; the driving-wheels made a quick half-turn backward; and a cheer
from the onlookers marked the little triumph of mind over matter.

Winton found Miss Carteret holding his overcoat when he swung down
from the cab, and he fancied her enthusiasm was tempered with
something remotely like embarrassment. But she suffered him to walk
back to the private car beside her; and in this sudden retreat from