Tom Swift and His Electric Locomotive; Or, Two Miles a Minute on the Rails
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Chapter XIX
Peril, The Mother of Invention
Tom Swift's first thought was one of thankfulness. Thankfulness that hedid not have a drag of fifty or sixty steel gondolas or the like to addtheir weight to the down-pull. The locomotive's own weight ofapproximately two hundred and seventy tons was enough.
For when the inventor pushed Ned aside and tried to handle thecontrollers properly, he found them unmanageable. There was not achance of freeing them and getting power on the brakes. The Hercules0001 was backing down the mountain side with a speed that wasmomentarily increasing, and without a chance of retarding it!
The young inventor at that moment of peril, knew no more what to do toavert disaster than Ned Newton himself.
It flashed across his mind, however, that others beside themselves werein peril because of this accident. The fast express from the East thatshould pass Half Way at four-thirteen, might already be climbing thehill from Hammon. Hammon, at the foot of the grade, was twenty-fivemiles away. Nor was the track straight.
If the operator at Half Way did not see the runaway locomotive andtelephone the danger to the foot of the grade, when the Hercules 0001came tearing down the track it might ram something in the Hammon yard,if it did not actually collide with the approaching westbound express.
Such an emergency as this is likely either to numb the brains of thoseentangled in the peril or excite them to increased activity. Ned Newtonwas apparently stunned by the catastrophe. Tom's brain never workedmore clearly.
He seized the siren lever and set it at full, so that the blast calledup continuous echoes in the forest as the locomotive plunged down theincline. He ran to the door again, on the side where Half Way stationlay, and hung out to signal the operator who had so recently given himright of way on this stretch of mountain road.
"We're going to smash! We're going to smash!" groaned Ned Newton.
Tom read these words on his chum's lips, rather than heard them, forthe roar of the descending locomotive drowned every other sound. Tomwaved an encouraging hand, but did not reply audibly.
Meanwhile his brain was working as fast as ever it had. He hadinstantly comprehended all the danger of the situation. But in additionhe appreciated the fact that such an accident as this might happen atany time to this or any other locomotive he might build.
Automatic brakes were all right. If there had been a good drag of carsbehind the Hercules 0001, on which the compressed air brakes might havebeen set, the present manifest peril might have been obliterated. Thebrakes on the cars would have stopped the whole train.
But to halt this huge monster when alone, on the grade, was anothermatter. Once the locomotive brake lever was jammed, as in this case,there was no help for the huge machine. It had to ride to the foot ofthe grade--if it did not chance to hit something on the way!
And with this realization of both the imminent peril and the need ofaverting it, to Tom's active brain came the germ of an idea that hedetermined to put into force, if he lived through this accident, oneach and every electric locomotive that he might in the future build.
This monster, flying faster and faster down the mountain side, was amenace to everything in its track. There might be almost anything inthe way of rolling stock on the section between Half Way and Hammon atthe foot of the grade. If this thunderbolt of wood and steel collidedwith any other train, with the force and weight gathered by its plungedown the mountain, it would drive through such obstruction like aprojectile from Tom's own big cannon.
Tom realized this fact. He knew that whatever object the Hercules 0001might strike, that object would be shattered and scattered all aboutthe right of way. What might happen to the runaway was another matter.But the inventor believed that the electric locomotive would be lessinjured than anything with which it came into collision.
At any rate, thought of the peril to himself and his invention hadsecondary consideration in Tom Swift's mind. It was what the monsterwhich he could not control might do to other rolling stock of the H. &P. A. that rasped the young fellow's mind.
The grade above Half Way had few curves. Tom soon caught the firstglimpse of the station. Would the operator hear the roar of thedescending runaway and understand what had happened?
He leaned far out from the open doorway and waved his cap madly. Hebegan to shout a warning, although he saw not a soul about the stationand knew very well that his voice was completely drowned by the voiceof the siren and the drumming of the great wheels.
Suddenly the tousled head of the operator popped out of his window. Hesaw the coming locomotive, the drivers smoking!
To be a good railroad man one has to have his wits about him. To be agood operator at a backwoods station one has to have two sets ofwits--one set to tell what to do in an emergency, the other to listenand apprehend the voice of the sounder.
This Half Way man was good. He knew better than to try the telegraphinstrument. He grabbed the telephone receiver and jiggled the hook upand down on the standard while the Hercules 0001 roared past thestation.
It did not need Tom's frantically waving cap to warn him what hadhappened. And he remembered clearly the fact of the expected westboundflyer.
"Hammon? Get me? This is Half Way. That derned electric hog has sprungsomething and is coming down, lickity-split!
"Yes! Clear your yard! Where's Number Twenty-eight? Good! Side her, orshe'll be ditched. Get me?"
The voice at the other end of the wire exploded into indignantvituperation. Then silence. The Half Way operator had done hisbest--his all. He ran out upon the platform. The electric locomotivehad disappeared behind the woods, but the roar of its wheels and theshrill voice of its siren echoed back along the line.
The sound faded into insignificance. The operator went back into hishut and stayed close by the telephone instrument for the next tenminutes to learn the worst.
If the operator's nerves were tense, what about those of Tom Swift andhis chum? Ned staggered to the door and clung to Tom's arm. He shrilledinto the latter's ear:
"Shall we jump?"
"I don't see any soft spots," returned Tom, grimly. "There aren't anylife nets along this line."
Ned Newton was frightened, and with good reason. But if his chum wasequally terrified he did not show it. He continued to lean from theopen door to peer down the grade as the Hercules 0001 drove on.
Around curve after curve they flew. It entered Ned's tortured mind thatif his chum had wanted speed, he was getting it now! He realized thattwo miles a minute was a mere bagatelle to the pace now accomplished bythe runaway locomotive.