Peril, The Mother of Invention
Tom Swift's first thought was one of thankfulness. Thankfulness that he
did not have a drag of fifty or sixty steel gondolas or the like to add
their weight to the down-pull. The locomotive's own weight of
approximately two hundred and seventy tons was enough.
For when the inventor pushed Ned aside and tried to handle the
controllers properly, he found them unmanageable. There was not a
chance of freeing them and getting power on the brakes. The Hercules
0001 was backing down the mountain side with a speed that was
momentarily increasing, and without a chance of retarding it!
The young inventor at that moment of peril, knew no more what to do to
avert disaster than Ned Newton himself.
It flashed across his mind, however, that others beside themselves were
in peril because of this accident. The fast express from the East that
should pass Half Way at four-thirteen, might already be climbing the
hill from Hammon. Hammon, at the foot of the grade, was twenty-five
miles away. Nor was the track straight.
If the operator at Half Way did not see the runaway locomotive and
telephone the danger to the foot of the grade, when the Hercules 0001
came 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 those
entangled in the peril or excite them to increased activity. Ned Newton
was apparently stunned by the catastrophe. Tom's brain never worked
more clearly.
He seized the siren lever and set it at full, so that the blast called
up continuous echoes in the forest as the locomotive plunged down the
incline. He ran to the door again, on the side where Half Way station
lay, and hung out to signal the operator who had so recently given him
right 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, for
the roar of the descending locomotive drowned every other sound. Tom
waved an encouraging hand, but did not reply audibly.
Meanwhile his brain was working as fast as ever it had. He had
instantly comprehended all the danger of the situation. But in addition
he appreciated the fact that such an accident as this might happen at
any time to this or any other locomotive he might build.
Automatic brakes were all right. If there had been a good drag of cars
behind the Hercules 0001, on which the compressed air brakes might have
been set, the present manifest peril might have been obliterated. The
brakes on the cars would have stopped the whole train.
But to halt this huge monster when alone, on the grade, was another
matter. 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 of
the grade--if it did not chance to hit something on the way!
And with this realization of both the imminent peril and the need of
averting it, to Tom's active brain came the germ of an idea that he
determined to put into force, if he lived through this accident, on
each and every electric locomotive that he might in the future build.
This monster, flying faster and faster down the mountain side, was a
menace to everything in its track. There might be almost anything in
the way of rolling stock on the section between Half Way and Hammon at
the foot of the grade. If this thunderbolt of wood and steel collided
with any other train, with the force and weight gathered by its plunge
down the mountain, it would drive through such obstruction like a
projectile from Tom's own big cannon.
Tom realized this fact. He knew that whatever object the Hercules 0001
might strike, that object would be shattered and scattered all about
the right of way. What might happen to the runaway was another matter.
But the inventor believed that the electric locomotive would be less
injured than anything with which it came into collision.
At any rate, thought of the peril to himself and his invention had
secondary consideration in Tom Swift's mind. It was what the monster
which 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 first
glimpse of the station. Would the operator hear the roar of the
descending runaway and understand what had happened?
He leaned far out from the open doorway and waved his cap madly. He
began to shout a warning, although he saw not a soul about the station
and knew very well that his voice was completely drowned by the voice
of the siren and the drumming of the great wheels.
Suddenly the tousled head of the operator popped out of his window. He
saw the coming locomotive, the drivers smoking!
To be a good railroad man one has to have his wits about him. To be a
good operator at a backwoods station one has to have two sets of
wits--one set to tell what to do in an emergency, the other to listen
and apprehend the voice of the sounder.
This Half Way man was good. He knew better than to try the telegraph
instrument. He grabbed the telephone receiver and jiggled the hook up
and down on the standard while the Hercules 0001 roared past the
station.
It did not need Tom's frantically waving cap to warn him what had
happened. And he remembered clearly the fact of the expected westbound
flyer.
"Hammon? Get me? This is Half Way. That derned electric hog has sprung
something and is coming down, lickity-split!
"Yes! Clear your yard! Where's Number Twenty-eight? Good! Side her, or
she'll be ditched. Get me?"
The voice at the other end of the wire exploded into indignant
vituperation. Then silence. The Half Way operator had done his
best--his all. He ran out upon the platform. The electric locomotive
had disappeared behind the woods, but the roar of its wheels and the
shrill voice of its siren echoed back along the line.
The sound faded into insignificance. The operator went back into his
hut and stayed close by the telephone instrument for the next ten
minutes to learn the worst.
If the operator's nerves were tense, what about those of Tom Swift and
his chum? Ned staggered to the door and clung to Tom's arm. He shrilled
into the latter's ear:
"Shall we jump?"
"I don't see any soft spots," returned Tom, grimly. "There aren't any
life nets along this line."
Ned Newton was frightened, and with good reason. But if his chum was
equally terrified he did not show it. He continued to lean from the
open door to peer down the grade as the Hercules 0001 drove on.
Around curve after curve they flew. It entered Ned's tortured mind that
if his chum had wanted speed, he was getting it now! He realized that
two miles a minute was a mere bagatelle to the pace now accomplished by
the runaway locomotive.