They had nothing to look out for, however, on the out track except an accommodation that had started two hours previous. No. 999 had a light load, and she sped along without a jar. The wires took care of her. By nine o'clock they were twenty miles "to the good" on regular schedule basis.
After that it was slower progress. The wind had arisen to a hurricane, the rain came down in torrents, and as they passed Winston they began to get in among he hills, where there was a series of intricate and dangerous curves.
"It's nearly a waterspout," observed Fogg, as the rain swept against the cab as if driven from a full pressure hose, and they could feel the staunch locomotive quiver as it breasted great sweeps of the wind. "I don't like that," he muttered, as a great clump came against the cab curtain. And he and his engineer both knew what it was from past experience.
"One of those young landslides?" spoke Ralph.
"The second in a half-an-hour." declared Fogg. "It's clear mud, but sometime in one of these storms we'll get a big drop of rock, and there'll be mischief afoot."
Ralph slowed as they entered a long stretch known as Widener's Gap. It was a pull up hill. Besides that, Widener was only two miles ahead,
