df.theedge-第51部分

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in；　there's　no　need　for　people　to　be　out　here。'
　　I　slowed　to　a　walk；　very　out　of　breath。　'I。。。　er。。。'　I　called；　'I　came　from　the　train　in　front。'　I　gestured　along　the　rails　ahead；　which　were　vacant　as　far　as　one　could　see　in　the　headlights　of　the　Canadian。
　　'What　train？'　one　of　them　said；　as　I　finally　reached　them。
　　'The　race　train。'　I　tried　to　breathe。　Air　came　in　gasps。　'Transcontinental。。。　mystery。。。　race　train。'
　　There　was　a　silence。　One　of　them　said；　'It's　supposed　to　be　thirty…five　minutes　ahead　of　us。'
　　'It　had。。。'　I　said；　dragging　in　oxygen；　'a　hot　box。'
　　It　meant　a　great　deal　to　them。　It　explained　everything。
　　'Oh。'　They　took　note　of　my　uniform。　'It　was　you　who　lit　the　fusees？'
　　'Yes。'
　　'How　far　ahead　is　the　other　train？'
　　'I　don't　know。。。。　Can't　remember。。。　how　far　I　ran。'
　　They　consulted。　One；　from　his　uniform；　was　the　Conductor。　Two；　from　their　lack　of　it；　were　the　engineers。　There　was　another　man　there；　perhaps　the　Conductor's　assistant。　They　decided…the　Conductor　and　the　train　driver　himself　decided　to　go　forward　slowly。　They　said　I'd　better　e　with　them　in　the　cab。
　　Gratefully；　lungs　settling；　I　climbed　up　and　stood　watching　as　the　engineer　released　the　brakes；　put　on　power　and　set　the　train　going　at　no　more　than　walking　pace；　headlights　bright　on　the　empty　track　ahead。
　　'Did　you　throw　one　of　the　fusees？'　the　engineer　asked　me。
　　'I　didn't　think　you　were　going　to　stop。'　It　sounded　prosaic；　unemotional。
　　'We　weren't　in　the　cab；'　he　said。　'The　one　you　threw　hit　the　windscreen　and　I　could　see　the　glare　all　the　way　down　inside　the　engine　where　I　was　checking　a　valve。　Just　as　well　you　threw　it。。。　I　came　racing　up　here　just　in　time　to　see　the　one　on　the　track　before　we　ran　over　it。　Bit　of　luck；　you　know。'
　　'Yes。'　Bit　of　luck。。。　deliverance　from　a　lifetime's　regret。
　　'Why　didn't　the　Conductor　radio？'　the　Conductor　said　crossly。
　　'It's　out　of　order。'
　　He　tut…tutted　a　bit。　We　rolled　forward　slowly。　There　was　a　bend　ahead　to　the　right。
　　'I　think　we're　near　now；'　I　said。　'Not　far。'
　　'Right。'　The　pace　slowed　further。　The　engineer　inched　carefully　round　the　bend　and　it　was　as　well　he　did；　because　when　he　braked　at　that　point　to　a　halt；　we　finished　with　twenty　yards　between　the　front　of　the　Canadian's　yellow　engine　and　the　shining　brass　railing　along　the　back　platform　of　the　Lorrimores'　car。
　　'Well；'　the　engineer　said　phlegmatically；　'I　wouldn't　have　wanted　to　e　round　the　corner　unawares　to　see　that。'
　　It　wasn't　until　then　that　I　remembered　that　Johnson　was　somewhere　out　on　the　track。　I　certainly　hadn't　spotted　him　lying　unconscious　or　dead　on　the　ground　on　the　return　journey；　and　nor　obviously　had　the　Canadian's　crew。　I　wondered　briefly　where　he'd　got　to；　but　at　that　moment　I　didn't　care。　Everyone　climbed　down　from　the　Canadian's　cab；　and　the　crew　walked　forward　to　join　their　opposite　numbers　ahead。
　　I　went　with　them。　The　two　groups　greeted　each　other　without　fuss。　The　race　train　lot　seemed　to　take　it　for　granted　that　the　Canadian　would　stop　in　time。　They　didn't　discuss　flares；　but　hot　boxes。
　　The　journal…box　which　held　the　near　side　end　of　the　rearmost　of　the　six　axles　of　the　horse　car　had　overheated；　and　it　had　overheated　because；　they　surmised；　the　oil　inside　had　somehow　leaked　away。　That's　what　was　usually　wrong；　when　this　happened。　They　hadn't　yet　opened　it。　It　no　longer　glowed　red；　but　was　too　hot　to　touch。　They　were　applying　fresh　snow　all　the　time。　Another　ten　minutes；　perhaps。
　　'Where's　George　Burley？'　I　asked。
　　The　race　train　baggage　handler　said　no　one　could　find　him；　but　two　sleeping…car　attendants　were　still　searching　for　him。　He　told　the　others　that　it　was　a　good　thing　he'd　happened　to　be　travelling　in　the　horse　car。　He　had　smelled　the　hot　axle；　he　said。　He'd　smelled　that　smell　once　before。　Terrible　smell；　he　said。　He'd　gone　straight　forward　to　tell　the　engineer　to　stop　at　once。　'Otherwise　the　axle　would　have　broken　and　we　could　have　had　a　derailment。'
　　The　others　nodded。　They　all　knew。
　　'Did　you　warn　any　of　the　passengers？'　I　asked。
　　'What？　No；　no；　no　need　to　wake　them　up。'
　　'But。。。　the　Canadian　might　not　have　stopped。。。'
　　'Of　course　it　would；　when　it　saw　the　fusees。'
　　Their　faith　amazed　and　frightened　me。　The　Conductor　of　the　Canadian　said　that　he　would　radio　ahead　to　Kamloops　and　both　trains　would　stop　there　again；　when　there　were　multiple　tracks；　not　just　the　one。　Kamloops；　he　thought；　would　be　getting　worried　soon　that　the　race　train　hadn't　arrived；　and　he　went　off　to　inform　them。
　　I　walked　back　behind　the　horse　car　and　boarded　the　race　train；　and　almost　immediately　met　George's　assistant　who　was　walking　forwards。
　　'Where's　George？'　I　said　urgently。
　　He　was　worried。　'I　can't　find　him。'
　　'There's　one　place　he　might　be。'　And　please　let　him　be　there；　I　thought。　Please　don't　let　him　be　lying　miles　back　in　some　dreadful　condition　beside　the　track。
　　'Where？'　he　said。
　　'In　one　of　the　bedrooms。　Look　up　the　list。　In　Johnson's　bedroom。'
　　'Who？'
　　'Johnson。'
　　Another　sleeping…car　attendant　happened　to　arrive　at　that　point。
　　'I　still　can't　find　him；'　he　said。
　　'Do　you　know　where　Johnson's　room　is？'　I　asked　anxiously。
　　'Yes；　nearly　next　to　mine。　Roomette；　it　is。'
　　'Then　let's　look　there。'
　　'You　can't　go　into　a　passenger's　room　in　the　middle　of　the　night；'　he　protested。
　　'If　Johnson's　there；　we'll　apologize。'
　　'I　can't　think　why　you　think　George　might　be　there；'　he　grumbled；　but　he　led　the　way　back　and　pointed　to　a　door。　'That's　his。'
　　I　opened　it。　George　was　lying　on　the　bed；　squirming　in　ropes；　fighting　against　a　gag。　Very　much　alive。
　　Relieved　beyond　measure；　I　pulled　off　the　gag　which　was　a　wide　band　of　adhesive　plaster　firmly　stuck　on。
　　'Dammit；　that　hurt；　eh？'　George　said。　'What　took　you　so　long？'
　　George　sat　in　his　office；　grimly　drinking　hot　tea　and　refusing　to　lie　down。　He　was　concussed；　one　could　see　from　his　eyes；　but　he　would　not　admit　that　the　blow　to　his　head　that　had　knocked　him　out　had　had　any　effect。　As　soon　as　he　was　free　of　the　ropes　and　had　begun　to　understand　about　the　hot　box；　he　had　insisted　that　he　and　the　Conductor　from　the　Canadian　had　a　talk　together　in　the　forward　dome　car　of　the　race　train；　a　meeting　attended　by　various　other　crew　members　and　myself。
　　The　despatcher　in　Kamloops；　the　Canadian's　Conductor　reported；　had　said　that　as　soon　as　the　race　train　could　set　off　again；　it　would　proceed　to　Kamloops。　The　Canadian　would　follow　ten　minutes　later。　They　would　also　alert　a　following　freight　train。　The　race　train　would　remain　at　Kamloops　for　an　hour。　The　Canadian　would　leave　Kamloops　first　so　that　it　fell　as　little　behind　its　timetable　as　possible。　After　all　the　journal…boxes　of　the　race　train　had　been　checked　for　heat；　it　would　go　on　its　way　to　Vancouver。　There　wouldn't　be　any　enquiry　at　Kamloops　as　it　would　be　past　three　in　the　morning…Sunday　morning…by　then。　The　enquiry　would　take　place　at　Vancouver。
　　Everyone　nodded。　George　looked　white；　as　if　he　wished　he　hadn't　moved　his　head。
　　The　race　train's　engineer　came　to　say　that　the　box　had　been　finally　opened；　it　had　been　dry　and　the　oily　waste　had　burned　away；　but　all　was　now　well；　it　was　cool　and　filled　again；　it　was　not　dripping　out　underneath；　and　the　train　could　go　on。
　　They　wasted　no　time。　The　Canadian's　crew　left　and　the　race　train　was　soon　on　the　move　again　as　if　nothing　had　happened。　I　went　with　George　to　his　office　and　then　fetched　him　the　tea；　and　he　groggily　demanded　I　tell　him　from　start　to　finish　what　was　going　on。
　　'You　tell　me　first　how　you　came　to　be　knocked　out；'　I　said。
　　'I　can't　remember。　I　was　walking　up　to　see　the　engineers。'　He　looked　puzzled。　'First　thing　I　knew；　I　was　lying　there　trussed　up。　I　was　there　for　ages。　Couldn't　understand　it。'　He　hadn't　a　chuckle　left　in　him。　'I　was　in　Johnson's　roomette；　they　said。　Johnson　did　it；　I　suppose。　Jumped　me。'
　　'Yes。'
　　'Where　is　he　now？'
　　'Heaven　knows。'　I　told　George　about　Johnson's　attacking　me　and　how　I'd　left　him；　and　how　I　hadn't　seen　him　anywhere　on　the　way　back。
　　'Two　possibilities；'　George　said。　'Three；　I　suppose。　Either　he　buggered　off　somewhere　or　he's　getting　a　ride　on　the　Canadian　right　now。'
　　I　stared。　Hadn't　thought　of　that。　'What's　the　third？'　I　asked。
　　A　tired　gleam　crept　into　George's　disorientated　eyes。　'The　mountain　where　we　stopped；'　he　said。　'That　was　Squilax　Mountain。　Squilax　is　the　Indian　word　for　black　bear。'
　　I　swallowed。　'I　didn't　see　any　bears。'
　　'Just　as　well。'
　　I　didn't　somehow　think　Johnson　had　been　eaten　by　a　bear。　I　couldn't　believe　in　it。　I　thought　I　must　have　been　crazy；　but　I　hadn't　believed　in　bears　all　the　time　I'd　been　out　there　on　black　bear　mountain。
　　'Know　something？'　George　said。　'The　new　rolling　stock　can't　easily　get　hot　boxes；　the　axles　run　on　ball…bearings；　eh？；　not　oily　waste。　Only　old　cars　like　the　horse　car　will　always　be　vulnerable。　Know　what？　You　bet　your　life　Johnson　took　most　of　the　waste　out　of　that　box　when　we　stopped　in　Revelstoke。'
　　'Why　do　you　say　oily　waste？'　I　asked。
　　'Rags。　Rags　in　the　oil。　Makes　a　better　cushion　for　the　axle　than　plain　oil。　I've　known　one　sabotaged　before；　mind。　Only　that　tine　they　didn't　just　take　the　rags　out；　they　put　iron　filings　in；　eh？　Derailed　the　train。　Another　railwayman　with　a　grudge；　that　was。　But　hot　boxes　do　happen　by　accident。　They've　got　heat　sensors　with　alarm　systems　beside　the　track　in　some　places；　because　of　that。　How　did　that　Johnson　ever　think　he'd　get　away　with　it？'
　　'He　doesn't　know　we　have　a　photo　of　him。'
　　George　began　to　laugh　and　thought　better　of　it。　'You　kill　me；　Tommy。　But　what　was　my　assistant　thinking　of；　sending　you　off　with　the　fusees？　It　was　his　job；　eh？　He　should　have　gone。'
　　'He　said　I'd　go　faster。'
　　'Well；　yes；　I　suppose　he　was　right。　But　you　weren't　really　crew。'
　　'He'd　forgotten；'　I　said。　'But　I　thought　he　might　have　warned　the　Lorrimores。。。　and　everyone　else。。。　to　get　them　out　of　danger。'
　　George　considered　it。　'I'm　not　going　to　say　he　should。　I'm　not　going　to　say　he　shouldn't。'
　　'Railwaymen　stick　together？'
　　'He's　ing　up　to　his　pension。　And　no　one　was　as　much　as　jolted　off　t