CHAPTER VIII.
THE HOT AXLE.
The express train was flying from Cork to Queenstown.

It was going like sixty--that is, about sixty miles an hour.

No sight of an Irish village to arrest our speed, no sign of break-down, and yet the train halted.

We looked out of the window, saw the brakemen and a crowd of passengers gathering around the locomotive and a dense smoke arising.

What was the matter?
A hot axle! We were on the lightning train for Cleveland.