cancel system at the behest of a railroad president.
"You must stop that train!" rang out the tones of the official sharply.
"I'm going to," replied Fairbanks grimly.
He never eased up on No. 999. Past the tower she slid. Then a glowing let up, and then, disregarding the lowered gates, she crashed straight through them, reducing them to kindling wood.
Squarely across the tracks of the incoming train the giant engine, battered, ice-coated, the semblance of a brave wreck, was halted. There she stood, a barrier to the oncoming Express.
Ralph jumped from his seat, reached under it, pulled out a whole bunch of red fuses, lit them, and leaning out from the cab flared them towards the oncoming train, Roman-candle fashion.
The astonished towerman quickly changed the semaphore signals. Her nose almost touching No. 999, the Express locomotive panted down to a halt.
"You shall hear from me, my men," spoke the railroad president simply, but with a great quiver in his voice, as he leaped from the cab, ran to the first car of the halted express and climbed to its platform.
Ralph drove No. 999 across the switches. The Express started on its way again. In what was
