the engineer. "But they ain't no sense in temptin' Providence by takin a new engine out on a Friday."
"It 'll be midnight before you reach the cañon," said the night foreman, "and there is no danger this side."
"There's danger in bed ef it's down that way," was the sullen response of the driver, as he backed down and coupled on to the express.
It was one of those clear moonlight nights that make every peak and pinnacle on the mountain ranges stand out as clear and distinct against the cold sky as they do in the daytime; a moon that shames the headlight, and shows the twin threads of steel running away off yonder and meeting and going on together where the darkness begins. Being new, with a clean boiler, the 107 steamed like a burning house, and the fireman, not being affected by the fact of its still being Friday, found time to hang out the open window, and watch the silvery ripples that were romping on the cold, white bosom of the winding river along whose banks the road lay.
Not a word had passed between the engineer
