Great, bear-like arms wrapped themselves around Bob and the young federal agent felt himself being lifted upward. For a moment he was helpless, too surprised even to attempt to struggle, but a sharp cry from behind him caused him to try to strike out with his feet for beneath came the sudden rumble of the trucks on a trestle and he knew that Hamsa, in a last desperate effort, was attempting to hurl him from the rear platform of the train. The young federal agent wrapped his own arms around Hamsa and clung to him desperately. If Bob went, Hamsa would go with him. Of that he was certain. The rail of the platform struck Bob’s hips and he felt himself being forced backward. It was sickening to hear the rumble of the trestle beneath and a flood of rain beat down on his face, drenching the upper half of his body. Then Hamsa gave one last, tremendous shove and Bob knew that he was going over the edge of the railing, but Hamsa was going with him. The speed of the Limited had slackened, but it was still doing at least twenty miles an hour when Bob and Hamsa, locked arm in arm, went over the rear platform. Bob closed his eyes for the shock of striking the trestle would be terrific. If he could only remain on the bridge there would be some chance of rescue for the trainmen had seen them go over the back end and would hurry back in a searching party. As they left the train, Bob managed to get one last twist with his toes and as they fell, he was on top. The drop from the train to the trestle seemed endless. The clatter of the train trucks had dimmed, but a whistle up ahead was blaring an alarm. Then they struck the trestle—struck it hard and rolled over once. The fall dazed Bob, but through his foggy mind he could hear the rush of water somewhere below. Hamsa had rolled away from him but it was too dark to see just where and Bob clung to the wet steel of one of the rails. He was too weak and shaken to think of attempting to get to his feet and back of him he could hear the shriek of the air brakes as they clamped down on the wheels of the Limited and brought the Southern to an emergency stop just beyond the edge of the long trestle. Chapter XVII INTO ANGRY WATERS ★ Bob ached in every muscle and he wondered, as he lay there on the trestle with the rain beating down on him, if the dangers of being a federal agent were worth the rewards. Then he swept that thought aside. Of course it was worth it, for he was on the side of right and honor—a side for which many a sacrifice could be willingly made.