The Pintsch lights overhead vibrated with blinding rapidity in the long, sliding jar that ran through the train from end to end, and the momentum of its speed suddenly decreasing, all but pitched the conductor from his seat.

A hideous ear-splitting rasp made itself heard from the clamped-down Westinghouse gear underneath, and Annixter knew that the wheels had ceased to revolve and that the train was sliding forward upon the motionless flanges.
"Hello, hello," he exclaimed, "what's all up now ?" "Emergency brakes," declared the conductor, catching up his cash box and thrusting his papers and tickets into it.

"Nothing much; probably a cow on the track." He disappeared, carrying his lantern with him.
But the other passengers, all but the stout gentleman, were awake; heads were thrust from out the curtains, and Annixter, hurrying back to Hilma, was assailed by all manner of questions.
"What was that ?" "Anything wrong ?" "What's up, anyways ?" Hilma was just waking as Annixter pushed the curtain aside.
"Oh, I was so frightened.

What's the matter, dear ?" she exclaimed.
"I don't know," he answered.

"Only the emergency brakes.