I looked about for
something to hold it. Part of a broken pin was the only thing in sight.
The headlight of the express shone in my face, and something seemed to
say, "This is your trial, do something quick." I threw myself prone on
the ground, my head near the rails, and held the broken pin between the
end of the siding rail and the main line. The switch rails could not be
forced over without shearing off the pin. The corner of the pilot of
the flying demon caught my right sleeve and tore it off, and the cloth
threw the cylinder cocks open with a hiss, the wind and dust blinded and
shook me, and the rails hammered and bruised and pinched my hand, but I
held on. Twenty seconds later I sat watching the red lights of the tenth
sleeper whip themselves out of sight. Then I went back to the cab, and
"Her Eyes" glorified me. "God bless your dear eyes," said I, "where
would we have all been now but for you?"
But the "Eyes" deprecated my remarks, and looked me upon a pedestal, but
the company doctor dressed my hand the next day, and the superintendent
gave the whole crew ten days for backing into that siding.
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