The glare of the head-light fell distorted on the ripples, and the lanterns of the brakemen evoked twinkling reflections below. The dank vernal odors from the banks came in on the breeze, and the wheels rolled slowly, and yet more slowly; they were just beginning to accelerate their speed when one of the passengers, glancing within to comment to a friend, saw the lithe young prisoner rise suddenly and liberate his hand with a violent jerk, while his companion in shackles with a hoarse cry, clutched frantically at him. The guard turned with a start, as the young mountaineer, with an indescribably swift and elastic bound, sprang through the window and caught the timbers of the bridge. A violent jerk, a bell’s sharp jangle, and an abrupt shiver ran through all the length of the train. Then the reflection of the glare of the head-light and the lesser gleaming points in the river were motionless. The train was at a stand-still in the middle of the bridge. A wild clamor arose from many voices; the brakemen on the platforms flashed their lanterns back and forth; a heavy body sprang into the swift waters with a great splash, and the sharp crack of a pistol echoed from the dark woods on either bank. The startled passengers were treated to a fine display of conflicting authorities as they poured out on the platform of the smoking-car, where it seemed that the conductor of the train was laboring under the delusion that he could arrest the deputy-sheriff of Cherokee County. “You had no right to pull the bell-cord and stop my train,—and stop it on the bridge!” he exclaimed. “I’m bound ter ketch my prisoner!” cried the deputy-sheriff, wildly. “He was handcuffed with this one, and he slipped his paw out somehow, an’ lept through the window, an’ perched thar on that timber o’ the bredge; an’ I knowed he war expectin’ the train ter go right on, an’ I pulled the rope ter stop it. I’d hev hed him,—I’d hev hed him, ef the durned Mink hedn’t tuk ter the water! Lemme go! Lemme go!” But the train was in motion again, slowly crossing the bridge, and the officer could only rush to a window and look wildly over the waters, illumined by the head-light and the glimmer of the moon, and fire at devious black floating objects that showed resemblance to the head of a swimming man struggling for his life. Several of the passengers derived great sport from this unique target-shooting, and the quiet was invaded with cries of excitement mingled with the reiterations of the pistol pealing over the water. There! a fair shot! the object sinks,—only a floating rail, for it is distinct as it rises once more to the surface; and again the balls make havoc only among the ripples. The quarry eludes,—eludes strangely. He must have had great practice in diving, or, as one hopeful soul cries out, he must be at the bottom of the river.