Shadrack's head appeared above the edge of the tender presently. He
motioned to Tom. "This wood is so wet we can't light it. We haven't any
paper."
"Wait," ordered Tom. He grabbed a log from the tender and went to the
fire-box, thrusting one end into the blaze. "I'll have to pass the fire
back to them," he explained to Andrews. "The wood is too wet."
When the end of the log was blazing, he pulled it out and raced back to
Shadrack. The wind and the rain extinguished the flames, but he hurried
forward again determinedly. This time he lighted several of the smallest
logs, which burned more freely. He made three trips to the freight car,
each time carrying a blazing torch, and he had just stepped into the tender
with the last log when the blackness of night fell upon them. Tom paused
for an instant bewildered. They had plunged into the tunnel.
The scene around him was illuminated by the flickering tongues of flame
which lapped up the end of the log. He stumbled over the wood in the
tender, and handed the log to Shadrack. Through the hole in the box-car he
saw the men working at the fire. Several were bending over it, fanning,
while others hurried back and forth in the dull glow bringing fuel.
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