The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1896-04-17


to Peter las well as he could, to give
her more speed, because II she slidn't
put In her best ticks now. what could
grounds and the stiff glades of the
inidlands. This shouting of Swipes.
however. had no effect, because we
never reached Peter, who stood with
his hand on the lever watching grim
~ the track in front. As Swipes con-
ttnued to shout out the mile-posts. ]
cried
Hold on. it's the telegraph poles
you are counting!'
NO, it isn't" he replied, cts the
mile posts"
Nonsense" cried. "At that rate
We are going ut the rate of one hum
dred aud eight miles an hour"
"A hundred and eight it is. them" he
said. Stoke her up Peter"
then called the general managers
attention to the fact that 1t was not
etiquette to tell an engine-driver to
"stoke up" as that duty was per-
formed by Billy Jones. He apparent
~ learned for the first time that en-
gineers do not do their own stocking,
and he thanked me for the informa.
ton. At last the mile-stones passed so
rapidly that Swipes could not keep
track Of them; SO we abandoned the
attempt to count them and took only
the stations, as we had a record Of dis
lance between them. saw now, by
making calculation between two sta
tions. that we were going Mt the rate
Of 1GO.45 miles IN hour, and my hair
would have stood on end If it were not
for the fact that is was standing
straight out behind. The oscillation
was something dreadful. and once I
realized with horror, as we swung
around curve, that all four wheels
We're off the track, and that we were
flying in mid-air; luckily. however. the
wheels came down on the rails and all
was we'll once more. By this time the
stations passed us in one continuous
streak. as IL we were running through
the suburbs of a big city. and l was
wondering all the time when we would
come to the town; but finally realized
that it was impossible to keep time,
even with my excellent watch and SO
we would have to lump the thing by
calculating how long it took us to come
from London to Glasgow. The lid Of
my watch. which I had, inadvertent-
~, exposed to the breeze, snapped and
blew away, and saw that the gold Of
the hunting case was beginning to
fake off, so I put it in my pocket to
save the rest of it. I knew it was
not yet two hours since we left Lon
don, and, to my amazement, I spted
the spires of Glasgow. I recognized
the place, because was born there.
THAT can't be Glasgow" I shouted
to Swipes. IF it is, we have Travelled
something like two hunded miles an
hour and the Lord only knows what
speed We attained in making up for
lost time when we were crawling on
at seventy and eighty"
That's Glasgow, all right enough"
said Swipes. Then he yelled to Peter.
''FOr heavens sake, shut of steam!
Don't You see where we are!"
But Peter was struggling with his
engine, and oil At once lie yelled back
at us:
Il can't stop her, sir!'
Heavens and earth! said I. "What
is to I've done?"
Il don't know" said Swipes. Its
my own fault. I told Peter, in the
hearing of the engine, and she is one
of the cutest engines on the road, that
we were bound to break the Ameri.
can record, which is five hundred and
ten miles. You see, it's only four hun
dred and one miles, decimal five, to
Glasgow, and I'll bet you that brute
of an engine is bound to do the other
one hundred and nine miles tonight,
even if she has to do it on the high
way. The railroad stops at Glasgow,
and l don't know what's going to hap
pen"
As he concluded the sentence there
was crash and bang, and the next
moment we were in the principal
street of Glasgow, tearing along the
rails of the street car line. Luckily.
the same law being in force as was in
London, nobody was out on the street.
and SO we went at the rate of S4.75
miles an hour up the main thorough
fare of Glasgow, and finally struck
the north road for the Highlands. Pc
ter was struggling all the time with
the engine. but could make no progress
in his endeavor to stop her..
When We got about fifty miles on
the main road from Glasgow, some
times slowing down to 63 miles an
hour, on the hills. Peter. with white
face turned toward us and shouted:
"My God, sir, we're on the Craigne.
puttoch Loeb road, and the Craigne.
puttoch Loeb is at the end of it, about
fifty miles ahead"
"How fur is it from London?" yelled
Swipes, putting his hands beside his
mouth to make the sound carry.
''The middle of Craigneputtoch Loeb
Is just five hundred and ten miles
from London, and it's over n thousand
feet deep in the middle" shouted Pc
ter.
That's where she's making for"
cried Swipes, unbuckling the straps
and clinging to the stool.
The hill snow rose grandly around
us in the darkness and we saw the
black waters of the lOch.
Jump, Peter, jump cried Swipes,
as he threw of the straps.
Peter did SO, and cut the strap that
held me. Instantly we were all-Pc-
ter the stoker, Swipes and myself
lying on the hillside on the heather.
The doomed train plunged right into
the center of the lake. 1t had COM
pleted it's 510-mile race. and used up
the fraction by sinking a thousand
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