And with these astounding words he fixed his fingers, grapple-hook fashion, in the collar of the new manager's coat; so that as Gash Tuttle, obeying a primal impulse, tried to back away from him, the back breadth of the coat bunched forward over his head, giving him the appearance of a fawn-coloured turtle trying to retreat within its own shell. His arms, hampered by sleeves pulled far down over the hands, winnowed the air like saurian flippers, wagging in vain resistance. Holding him fast, ignoring his muffled and inarticulate protests, the constable addressed the menacing countryman: "Is this here the one got your money?" "No, 'tain't. 'Twas a big ugly feller, with mushtashes; but I reckin this here one must've helped. Lemme search him." "Hands off the prisoner!" ordered the constable, endeavouring to interpose his bulk between maddened accuser and wriggling captive. He spoke too late and moved too slowly. The countryman's gouging hands dived into Mr. Tuttle's various pockets and were speedily out again in the open; and one of them held money in it--paper and silver. "Here 'tis!" barked the countryman, exultant now. "This here two-dollar bill is mine--I know it by this here red-ink mark." He shuffled out the three remaining bills and stared at them a moment in stupefaction, and his yelp of joy turned to a bellow of agonised berserk rage. "I had two hundred and twenty-eight dollars in cash, and here ain't but seventeen dollars and sixty cents! You derned sharper! Where's the rest of my mortgage money that yore gang beat me out of?" He swung a fearsome flail of an arm and full in Gash Tuttle's chest he landed a blow so well aimed, so vigorous, that by its force the recipient was driven backward out of his coat, leaving the emptied garment in the constable's clutches; was driven still further back until he tottered on the rear edge of the platform and tumbled off into space, his body tearing away a width of canvas wall and taking it along with him as he disappeared. Perhaps it was because he fell so hard that he bounced up so instantaneously. He fought himself free of the smothering folds of dusty tarpaulin and turned to flee headlong into the darkness. He took three flying steps and tripped over the guy rope of the next tent. As he fell with stunning violence into the protecting shadows he heard pursuit roll over the platform past Osay, thud on the earth, clatter on by him and die away in the distance to the accompaniment of cheers, whoops and the bloodthirsty threats of the despoiled countryman. * * * * * If one has never stolen a ride on a freight train the task presents difficulties and dangers. Still, it may be done, provided one is sufficiently hard pressed to dare its risks and risk its discomforts. There is one especially disagreeable feature incident to the experience--sooner or later discovery is practically inevitable.