This somewhat hazardous move he commenced just as we struck a stretch of trestlework which carried the road over a gorge some fifty feet deep.  As the locomotive reached the end of the trestlework the grade rose a little, and I could see through, or in, a deep cut which the road ran into, an obstruction.  What it was, or how far ahead, I had almost no conception; but quick as thought—­and thought is quick as lightning in such circumstances—­I whistled for the brakes, shut off the steam, and waited the collision.  I would have reversed the engine, but a fear that a reversal of its action would crowd up the cars on the trestlework and throw them into the gorge below, forbade; nor was there wisdom in jumping off, as the steep embankments on either side would prevent escape from the wreck of the cars when the collision came.  All this was decided in an instant of time, and I calmly awaited the shock which I saw was unavoidable.  Though the speed, which was very moderate before, was considerably diminished in the fifty yards between the obstacle and the head of the train, I saw that we would certainly run into the rear of another train, which was the obstruction I had seen.

The first car struck was loaded with hay and grain.  My engine literally split it in two, throwing the hay right and left, and scattering the grain like chaff.  The next car, loaded with horses, was in like manner torn to pieces, and the horses piled upon the sides of the road.  The third car, loaded with tents and camp equipage, seemed to present greater resistance, as the locomotive only reached it, and came to a stand-still.

My emotions during these moments were most peculiar.  I watched the remorseless pressure of the engine with almost admiration.  It appeared to be deliberate, and resolute, and insatiable.  The shock was not great, the advance seemed very slow; but it plowed on through car after car with a steady and determined course, which suggested at that critical moment a vast and resistless living agent.  When motion ceased, I knew my time of trial was near; for if Colonel Williams had not been thrown from the top of the cars into the gorge below, he would soon be forward to execute his threat,—­to shoot me if any accident occurred.  I stepped out of the cab on the railing running along to the smoke-stack, so as to be out of view to one coming forward toward the engine, and yet to have him in the full light of the lantern which hung in the cab.

Exactly as I had surmised,—­for I had seen a specimen of his fierce temper and recklessness,—­he came stamping and cursing; and jumping from the car on to the tender, he drew a pistol, and cried out, “Where is that cursed engineer, that did this pretty job?  I’ll shoot him the minute I lay eyes on him.”

I threw up my six-shooter so that the light of the lantern shone upon it, while he could see me but indistinctly, if at all, and said with deliberation, “Colonel Williams, if you raise your pistol you are a dead man; don’t stir, but listen to me.  I have done just what any man must have done under the circumstances.  I stopped the train as soon as possible, and I’ll convince you of it, if you are a reasonable man; but not another word of shooting, or you go down.”