Part of the time it seemed to Ford that it was clearly his duty to make this fight against the grafters in the Denver management.  North deserved no consideration, and while Mr. Colbrith was honest enough, his blind prejudice and narrow mentality made him North’s unwitting accessory.  Three months earlier Ford would not have hesitated; but in the interval a woman had come between to obscure all the points of view.  A fight to the death against the Colbrith administration meant the antagonizing of the Adairs—­of Alicia, at least.  True, she had spoken lightly of her uncle’s peculiarities; but Ford made sure she would stand by him in the conflict, if only for kinship’s sake.

All this he was turning over in his mind for the hundredth time while the big 1012 hammered up the Plug Mountain grade under the guiding hand of the giant in blue denim.  Ford, glooming out upon the lighted stretch ahead, was once more finding the crucial question answerless.  Should he draw out of the losing battle with North and his fellow grafters, and thereby save his chance of winning Alicia Adair?  Or should he sacrifice his love upon the altar of ambition, abolish Mr. Colbrith and the crew of buccaneers his mistaken policy was sheltering, and win the industrial success and a quieted conscience?

His decision was reached by the time Hector was easing the throttle lever at the summit of Plug Pass.  What must be done should be done quickly.

“Right here is where you begin to run on your nerves,” he said to the big engineer, as the heavy engine and car lunged over the summit of the pass and began to gather gravity momentum on the downward rush.

Hector nodded, and twitched the handle of the air-brake cock at shorter intervals.  Ford glanced back at the following car framed in the red glow from the opened fire-box door.  It was surging and bounding alarmingly over the uneven track, not without threatenings of derailment.  Ford was willing to give the president the full benefit of his unreasonable pertinacity; but there were others to be considered—­and one above all the others.

“Easy, man; easy!” he cautioned.  “If you leave the steel on this goat-track there won’t be anybody left to tell the story.  It’s a thousand feet sheer in some places along here.  Suppose you let me take her to the bottom of the hill.”

The engineer stood aside with a good-tempered grin.  He had seen the chief of construction walking the one young lady of the party to the top of Plug Pass and back, and it was not difficult to account for his anxiety.

Throughout the ten long miles of the mountain descent Ford crouched on the driver’s seat and put his mind into the business of getting down the slides and around the sagging curves without having a wreck.  The 1012’s brake equipment was modern, and the Nadia’s gear was in perfect order.  Now and then on a tangent the big engine would straighten herself for a race or a runaway, but always the steady