The Argosy, April 1912 — page 166: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

152 saw on the ground beside it, waving his arms frantically, one of his pursuers, fortu- nately an unarmed one. Apparently they had anticipated this move on his part, and one of them was standing guard at the track. He was try- ing to yell, in competition with the train, a warning to his comrade, the man with the gun, who was presumably still beating the bushes. Instinctively the hunted one dashed up the bank and across the track, just ahead of the oncoming engine. The next instant the train rumbled by, and for the moment placed a wall of flying cars between him and the others. Creighton hadn’t jumped a moving train since his freshman days, and not many of them then, but there was no time to pause and recall forgotten lore. He whirled about, and grabbed for the step of the next car to pass him, He caught the handle all right, but some- thing was wrong with his technique. In- stead of springing up lightly and placing one foot firmly on the narrow iron step, according to rules, he was suddenly snapped through the air as though he were the tip end of a whip-lash. Then next instant, with the tender palms of his two hands, and the dainty features of his one and only countenance, he was plowing three neat furrows down the cruel cinders of the railroad bank. But some nice, soft mud at the bottom furnished a cushion that prevented serious injury, and at the same time provided a cool poultice for his lacerations, incidentally adding still further to the completeness of his disguise. He arose in a moment, one all-embracing smart. He had as soon be peppered full of gunshot holes as to try to catch that train again. Then it dawned on him that if his pur- suers were expert at train-jumping, the freight would be no barrier to pursuit. They would simply climb aboard, and drop down on the other side. At any rate, such barrier as it was, it would be past in another moment. . A hasty glance through the woodsshowed a forbidding barrier of swamp. The only chance for a run lay along the narrow cinder-path at the top of the bank beside the moving train, a footing so close to the whirling wheels that it inspired fear of being drawn under them. THE ARGOSY. As he dashed down this path, in the same direction as that taken by the freight, a brilliant inspiration flashed over Avery. By running along with the train he would increase the length of time it could take to pass him, and thus, in case his pursuers did not cross over, he would lengthen the duration of his shelter. Simultaneously he would be enlarging his lead on the country- men. Fearfully he glanced back as he ran. Nobody appeared on his side of the train. Then came a sickening afterthought. They would get aboard and ride along till they overtook him, then pounce out. Or they might, perhaps, playfully shoot him from a car as they went by. While he was still harassed by these fears, the end of the freight approached. Provi- dentially, at the same time he came to a little culvert or stone bridge under which the water of the swamp flowed to the lake. With the blind instinct of the hunted, Avery dived under this, just as the caboose of the freight rumbled over it. Now it was evident that the seekers of vengeance had not caught the train. Had Creighton understood the limitations of the rural dweller, he would have had little fear of such possibility. The average back- woodsman stands in great awe of the rail- road, and would as soon think of trying to catch the tail of a comet as to board a moving car. But the thing that did happen was the one thing most obvious, and the one on which the hunted man had not figured. The hunters, finding their quarry cut off by the train, had stooped and peered under it. Of course, they had at once noted the flying heels of Creighton, and equally, as a matter of course, had kept pace with him on the other side of the train. | Therefore the three reached the culvert at the same instant. . As the caboose of the freight swept over the little bridge the two farmers swung out onto it and the bedraggled and breathless Mr. Avery dived under. CHAPTER III. MORE TRAMPS. Ir was twilight in the little culvert. Creighton Avery floundered in amid a mass of lily-pads and reeds, up to his waist in JOO) nn S (CO