THE TURKEY DRIVE 27 



ing them into the cars, or upon the loads of lumber, 

 as fast as they could pass from car to car. 



Luckily, the rails were sleety, and the mighty driv- 

 ing-wheels, spinning on the ice with their long load, 

 which seemed to freeze continually to the track, made 

 headway so slowly that the whole flock had come to 

 roost upon the cars before the train was fairly moving. 



Conductor and brakeman, hurrying back to board 

 the caboose, were midway of the train before they 

 noticed what was happening. How it was happening 

 they did not see at all, so hidden were the movements 

 of the two boys in the swirl of the blinding snow. 



For just an instant the conductor checked himself. 

 But it was too late to do anything. The train was 

 moving, and he must keep it moving as fast as he 

 could to the freight-yards ahead at the junction 

 the very yards where, even now, an empty car was 

 waiting for the overdue turkeys. 



As he ran on down the track and swung aboard 

 the caboose, two other figures closed in behind the 

 train. One of them, seizing the other by the arm, 

 landed him safe upon the steps, and then shouted at 

 him through the storm : - 



"Certainly you shall ! I'm safe enough! I'll drive 

 on to that old sawmill to-night. Feed 'em in the morn- 

 ing and wait for me! Good-by," and as the wind 

 carried his voice away, George Totman found him- 

 self staring after a ghost-white car that had vanished 

 in the storm. 



