"My—my eyes are pretty bad. When the smoke lifts—what's beyond the car yonder?"
"I can't make out exactly, but I think a clear track."
"How's the furnace?"
"Rushing."
"All right. Now then, you jump off. I'm going to let her go."
Ralph stared hard at the grim old veteran. He could see he was on the verge of physical collapse, and he wondered if his mind was not tottering too; his pertinacity had something weird and astonishing in it.
"Jump!" ordered Griscom, giving the lever a pull.
Ralph did not budge. As he clearly read his companion's purpose, he made up his mind to stick.
The prospect was something awful, and yet, after the previous experiences of that exciting half-hour, he had somehow become inured to danger, and reckless of its risks. The excitement and wild, hustling activity bore a certain stimulating fascination.
With a leap 99 bounded forward at the magic touch of the old king of the lever. It plunged headlong into a whirling vortex of smoke.
A groaning yell went up from the fugitive
