He often prowled the length of the train with hardihood and
determination, merely to meet a request for a sandwich.
The train entered Carlisle at the beginning of twilight. This is the
border town, and an engine of the Caledonian Railway, manned by two men
of broad speech, came to take the place of the tandem. The engine of
these men of the North was much smaller than the others, but her cab was
much larger, and would be a fair shelter on a stormy night. They had
also built seats with hooks by which they hang them to the rail, and
thus are still enabled to see through the round windows without
dislocating their necks. All the human parts of the cab were covered
with oilcloth. The wind that swirled from the dim twilight horizon made
the warm glow from the furnace to be a grateful thing.
As the train shot out of Carlisle, a glance backward could learn of the
faint, yellow blocks of light from the carriages marked on the dimmed
ground. The signals were now lamps, and shone palely against the sky.
The express was entering night as if night were Scotland.
There was a long toil to the summit of the hills, and then began the
booming ride down the slope. There were many curves. Sometimes could be
seen two or three signal lights at one time, twisting off in some new
direction. Minus the lights and some yards of glistening rails, Scotland
was only a blend of black and weird shapes.
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