have our abilities properly recognised among the workmen who were our companions. In all our little enterprises and adventures Mark, however, was the leader, he inherited his father’s skill and courage, and soon acquired even among the men a good reputation for steady pluck and shrewdness. Such were young Hibberd and myself at about the age of fifteen; but in order that you may clearly understand the whole of my story it will be necessary for me now to explain the situation and peculiarities of our station and the neighbouring line. Coulston is a large town on the railway, standing midway between Allonby, which is ten miles below, and Castleton, which is ten miles above it.
“Attached to the station are the locomotive works already mentioned, and a very large engine-house. In the latter, the number of engines was generally considerable, and this was our favourite haunt where we lurked at all hours, hoping for the chance of a run with some complaisant comrade down to Allonby, whence we trusted to the chapter of accidents and ‘Shanks his mare,’ for a return journey. The engine-house stood at a distance of about 200 yards below Coulston station, with which it was connected by a siding joining the main line, in a manner with which everyone is familiar.
“Allonby was a small place where few trains stopped, while our town was large and of rising importance. The nearest down station of any size was Lichester, about forty miles distant. It happened one dark but clear November evening, that Mark Hibberd and I were lounging about our favourite engine-house chatting to one and another of the drivers who were busy oiling and cleaning their respective locomotives. Old Hibberd’s ‘Firefly,’ was there with steam up, an order having come during the afternoon that Mark’s father was to be in readiness to take a ‘special’ down to Lichester at eight o’clock precisely. Hibberd himself was not there, though it was then half-past seven, and Mark said casually, in answer to a question from old Bob Jacobs, his fireman, that he hoped his father was not ‘on the lush,’ but he had been down to the Railway Arms again that afternoon for the first time during the last three months.
“We were standing on the footplate as we talked, and steam having been up some time and the water in the boiler somewhat low, I said to Jacobs, ‘Bob, you’ll have to run her down to the crossing and back a time or two to fill up the boiler,’ it being necessary, I must tell you, to put an engine in motion before the pumps which feed her with water can work.
“‘Right you are, Mas’r Charley,’ said Bob; ‘but do you and Mas’r Mark take her down to the points and back agin while I light my lamps and fill my oil can.’
“Here was one of the little chances we delighted in. It wanted exactly twenty minutes to eight when Mark turned on steam, and we glided slowly out of the engine-house, leaving old Jacobs trimming the ‘Firefly’s’ lamps. We had run backwards and forwards over the hundred yards of rails between the crossing and the house when Mark’s evil genius prompted him to exclaim:
“‘I say, Charley, let’s run over the points and down the line for half-a-mile or so; we can be back easy by eight o’clock.’
“No sooner said than done. When we reached the points I dropped off and opened the switches, thus shunting the engine on to the up-line, upon which we proposed to indulge ourselves in some two or three minutes’ galop, and then return.
“Now in acting thus, you must understand that we did nothing whatever involving any danger from ordinary sources, and were in all human probability perfectly safe from mishap.
“The next train was an up express, not due at Coulston till 8.20, but which did not stop at Allonby. Nothing could possibly follow us from behind for we were on the up line of rails, and as we should be back again before eight o’clock, there was of course no danger to be apprehended from the coming train. Hibberd, on our return, had only to ship his lamps and start on the down line for Lichester.
“Our programme, however, was deranged in a way we little expected. Prudent if bold, we did not allow the delights of our galop to detain us too long, and it wanted some minutes to eight when we passed the crossing on our way back to the engine-house; we had slackened speed on approaching the points, and were travelling slowly and quietly when Mark shouted to me, ‘Put down the break, Charley, here’s the big “Swallow” coming out at a lick, and no mistake!’ In a moment we had stopped and reversed the ‘Firefly,’ and began to move slowly a-head down the up-line again, greatly wondering what it all might mean, but not in the least alarmed for our safety, since we had only to allow the ‘Swallow’ gradually to overtake us, and when she saw us (which, as we had no lamps was not so easy) both engines might return together. Meanwhile the giant behind us came on at such a rapidly increasing speed that we were unwillingly obliged to travel faster as well. We shouted and tried to attract attention from her driver, but in vain, and we presently began to think that something must be wrong. At length Mark whispered, ‘Charley, you may take my word for it that’s the governor, and he’s mad drunk. Like enough he’s got on the first engine that came to hand, and don’t know at this moment if he’s on the up or down line or what he’s doing—he’s the very devil after he’s been drinking.’ Here was a pleasant situation.
“It was just on the stroke of eight o’clock; in another ten minutes at farthest the up express would pass Allonby on its way to Coulston; before us therefore was the certainty of collision, and behind us an engine already running at a great rate which increased with every minute, and driven by a man mad drunk—what was to be done? It was a case in which moments are precious, and decision must be the work of a second of time.
“‘Let us run for Allonby,’ said Mark, at once, with his hand upon the regulator. ‘Keep the whistle open all the way, and trust in Providence they’ll hear it, and have time and sense to shunt us on to the “down” before the express runs through.’
