THE MOTH. 
j sen out and nothing but a cavity left, 
ml of sleep with a job in front of you when 
cry sense must be alert is a very hard thing 
bear. My heart was like lead as 1 got. to 
e engine and found Jack, my fireman, 
>king up. 
Outside, the drizzle had turned to a white, 
lick fog clinging clammily to the world. 
' '“ How’s the missus, Bill ? ” Old Jack put 
i) his red, coal-streaked face. 
“ Bad, Jack/* I said, quietly. “ Bad.” 
“ We haven’t got too much time, either, 
nd you look worn out yourself,” he said. 
Cheer up, Bill, them fevers wears out by 
lemselves mostly on the third day- they 
inis that high they can’t, go on.” 
“ No ? ” I said, and I shuddered. What 
it burnt away the little flickering life ? 
“Can’t you insist on a relief ? ” he asked. 
1 laughed drearily. “ To insist would 
lean the shove out, Jack,” 1 said, “ and I 
I lift. he out of work, now, of all times- the 
ttle wife wants so much.” 
1 forgot how tired I was as I ran round my 
ig engine, oiling, wiping, testing ; seeing 
I hat she was ready for her long run. Then I 
imped into the cab, pulled open the throttle, 
nd backed the engine, snorting furiously, 
own to the waiting line of carriages. She 
vas a powerful engine, able to do her sixty 
f 1 asked her, and sweet-tempered as my 
enny. Our engines are live things to us 
lrivers, you know. Sometimes 1 think there 
fire brains under their great hoods. 
I At the faint jar of the snorting buffers and 
he leap of the porters to couple up, 1 saw 1 
vas barely up to time. It was a long, tough 
‘un at night ; everything was in order for it, 
nut my head swam emptily and my eves 
plinked once or twice, despite myself ; the 
fog, too, had made the night heavy. It clung 
lammily, blurring the station lights. There 
was a small crowd upon the platform, and I 
»aw the superintendent fussing and bowing 
is he ushered some men to a reserved carriage. 
I’hi'ii he left them and came quickly across 
to me. 
I opened my eyes resolutely. lie was an 
ill tempered fellow, and we were all afraid of 
him. 
“ Those are the M.P.’s and Lord Dalgraee 
from England,” he said, “going to Bloville to 
connect with the express to Ottawa. It’s a 
raw, thick night, Summers, but you must 
run her through it. Bring her in up to time. 
Missus better, I hope ? ” 
“ No,” I said, dully. “ And she wants me 
there. If you could give me a couple of da vs 
off, sir.” 
M7 
“ Impossible just now,” he said, carelessly. 
“ Bates is down with pleurisy and Jack 
Denver has broken his leg. We want every 
hand we have- or ” he looked at me 
ominously 11 we could get fresh ones up 
from Montreal.” 
That hint was enough. I turned away sick 
at heart, pulled the throttle open, and. with 
a scream of jov. the train swooped out into 
the bitter, white mist. Running an express 
at night is no light work. 1 1 ’s not only keeping 
to the steel rails, as people seem to think, 
but watching, looking out for every signal, 
dreading lest a stray cow upon the line may 
wreck the human freight in our rare. And 
my whole thoughts were hack in the little 
cottage. I had to force myself to the look 
out the fog blurred the glass, and Jack 
and I had to strain our eyes as we roared past 
small stations, to see the flashing whiteness 
of line clear and no blur of angry red to stop 
our way. 
The engine was running, as she always did, 
like a dream, hauling the cars up the inclines 
with superb ease, floating down the gradients. 
Sleepless as I was, I felt my heart throb for 
pride in her as we came past Black Springs 
and ran the long flat before the steep pull of 
Shole 1 1 ill. 
fade took the left, I the right, our eyes 
fixed upon the blur of wet radiance which our 
head lights slashed from the gloom, and then 
I cried out in amazement. Against, the fog 
in front 1 saw the gigantic shape of a. woman 
waving her arms at us — waving them 
methodically, straight out to her shoulders, 
drop down, and straight out again drop. 
It is the Canadian human signal to stop, 
known as “ waving a train down.” 
Instinctively my fingers turned to shut; 
off steam, then I stared again and drew a 
long breath the figure was too large to be 
human, nor could anyone stand so long 
before our tearing onrush. With a glance at 
Jack, who was staring out steadily and 
quietly, l brushed my tired eyes and groaned. 
I must knock off engine-driving, if mv 
sleepless brain was to bring me t hese visions 
of the night. 
But I ran her a little too easily across the 
stretch of fiat, and Jack turned to look at me. 
Shole Hill was a long, steep gradient, and 
after we topped that there was a steep 
descent arid a. wide curve over the Slavebov 
Bridge, with the river roaring in high flood 
against it, 
“See anything?” Jack asked. “Better 
got up a bit for the hill, eh ? ” 
“ 1 -it was a shadow,” I said, uneasily, 
