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The Face and the Mask by Robert Barr
page 182 of 280 (65%)
on Eighty-six. A man from one of the branch lines who doesn't know the
road. I doubt if he's ever been over the main line before. Now, it's an
anxious enough time for me anyhow with a heavy train to take through,
with the thermometer at zero, and the rails like glass, and I like to
have a man in front that I can depend on."

"It's bad enough not to know the road," said John gloomily, "but it's
worse not to know old Eighty-six. She's a brute if she takes a notion."

"I don't suppose there is another engine that could draw this train and
keep her time," said the conductor.

"No! She'll do her work all right if you'll only humor her," admitted
Saggart, who could not conceal his love for the engine even while he
blamed her.

"Well," said the conductor, rising and picking up his lantern, "the man
in front may be all right, but I would feel safer if you were further
ahead than the smoker. I'm sorry I can't offer you a berth to-night,
John, but we're full clear through to the rear lights. There isn't even
a vacant upper on the train."

"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Saggart. "I couldn't sleep, anyhow. I'd
rather sit here and look out of the window."

"Well, so long," said the conductor. "I'll drop in and see you as the
night passes on."

Saggart lit his pipe and gazed out into darkness. He knew every inch of
the road--all the up grades and the down grades and the levels. He knew
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