and fireman since they started out, and now they were swinging round the curves at a good express gait. The new engine was rocking like a light boat on a rough sea, but otherwise she was riding as easily as a coach. It was 11:50 when they passed Good-night, and two minutes later the fireman was startled by that dreadful word which almost every fireman has heard at some time or another: "Jump!"
It is as natural for an engineer to call to his fireman to jump and save himself for he is of no use on a locomotive about to be wrecked—as it is for the engineer to remain at his post.
"Jump!" shouted the driver; and the fire man glancing ahead saw a confused mingling of horns, hoofs, and tails between him and the track. He jumped and came down on a bunch of sage brush amid a shower of steers, and saw the 107 leave the track, plough along the side of the low bank, and finally stop without turning over. The train—the engineer having set the air—stopped with all the cars, save the mail car, still on the track.
Thus, the 107 on her first trip made a bad record and got herself talked about. Of course
