A howl of agony burst from Slosson, then his fist drove into Wren's face and sent him sprawling. A long train of sparks flew out into the night from the cigar as it shivered; the train clattered over a crossing and the brakes screeched slightly, slowing down for a stop at a large town ahead. To everything except each other, the two men on the observation platform were blinded. Wren rose and hurled himself on Slosson, lashing out in wildcat fury. Every restraint was gone from him, swept away by a whirlwind of rage; he forgot everything except that detested face, and slammed his fists into it frantically. It was well for Jimmy Wren that Slosson's muddled brain could not exert its usual keen cunning. Aghast before the unexpected passion of this attack, Slosson was slow to answer it in kind, until the sting and batter of Wren's blows hammering into his face roused him to response. Then, bearing forward with a storm of oaths, he beat back the more slender figure of Wren, his arms working like piston-rods. Both men were too beside themselves to hit vitally for the body; they struck only for the face, for punishment, insensate with mutual madness and battle-fever. Wren had the worse of this slugging-match. Backed into a corner of the guard-rail, he received terrific punishment--until he seized an opening and got in a whip-crack blow to the mouth whose impact staggered Slosson. Enraged afresh, the latter flung himself bodily at Wren; the two men clinched, and went reeling back and forth across the narrow platform to the lurches of the train. Slosson, panting forth curses, got his fingers locked about Wren's throat, and the latter tried desperately but vainly to free himself of that death-grip. One of the folding chairs tripped them both. The train swung sharply; for an instant Wren felt the brass rail at his back--then he was over, falling into the night, and Slosson with him. A crash, the keen edge of cutting gravel in his face, and Wren found the hold upon his throat loosened as they struck and rolled over together. The train went thundering on. After a moment Wren pulled himself to hands and knees, dazed by the shock, and stared about. Dotting lights showed him that he was in the precincts of a town; then, with a low exclamation, he drew himself to where Slosson lay motionless under the stars. "Stunned--thank heaven he's not dead!" murmured Wren. "Why both of us weren't killed, is more than I know--" The whistle of another train warned him that they were yet in danger. He stooped, dragged Slosson's inert figure down the embankment, and then relaxed, panting. A brief examination served to show that he was badly bruised and knocked about, a mass of cuts and scratches, but sound in wind and limb. His quick wits took stock of the situation.