the tracks near there, and the operator beyond says it will be a blockade if the dam breaks."
"Are you willing to risk it?" inquired the official.
"That's what we are here for," asserted Ralph.
"Then don't delay."
"It's getting worse and worse!" exclaimed Fogg, after a half-hour's further running.
Ralph never forgot that vital hour in his young railroad experience. They were facing peril, they were grazing death, and both knew it. The wind was a hurricane. The snow came in great sheets that at times enveloped them in a whirling cloud The wheels crunched and slid, and the pilot threw up ice and snow in a regular cascade.
There was a sickening slew to the great locomotive as they neared Westbrook. The track dropped here to take the bridge grade, and as they struck the trestle Fogg uttered a sharp yell and peered ahead.
"We can't stop now!" he shouted; "put on every pound of steam, Fairbanks."
Ralph was cool and collected. He gripped the lever, his nerves set like iron, but an awed look came into his eyes as they swept the expanse that the valley opened up.
The trestle was fully half a foot under water already, and the volume was increasing every
