Tim looked over his shoulder and before he knew it the towering funnel stood above them, belching smoke and flame. The light of the headlamp flooded the rails. Now the hounds were just across the track, and Kane’s figure rose in his stirrups as his horse shrieked and reared in fright. Tim ran at top speed, leapt to a flatcar and hung on for his life. He worked himself onto the car, sank to the planks and rested a moment before he looked back. The car behind was a flatcar, too, and Red was clinging to a stanchion in the middle of the car. Tim jumped to his feet, and above the thunder of the rolling cars the whine of a bullet split the air. He jumped the coupling, stumbled over some loose timber and grasped Red’s arm, pulling upward with all his might. The ground slid past his vision like a crazy quilt. Something gave way and he lost his footing. He fell backward and hit the flatcar with sickening force. At first his eyes were sightless and there was terrible thunder in his ears. Someone was shaking him and slapping his cheeks. He opened his eyes and saw Red bending over him. Tim said, “I thought I’d lost you.” Red pointed to his ears and shook his head to show he couldn’t hear. Tim lay still for a while. His head was splitting. When he raised it the light of the moon touched Red’s face. Red’s hair was wild and his cheek was cut and streaked with blood. As they rounded a curve Tim sat up and took in their situation. Ahead of the car he had boarded was one boxcar, shielding them from the fireman and the engineer. Behind, there were three more boxcars. A red lantern marked the end of the train but apparently nobody rode the last car. All the cars must be empty. They bounced and jerked until it seemed they would jump the track. A good horseman might keep up with the train for a while in open country, but he would find it hard in country like this. They had not traveled far when they entered a wood where the trees pressed close on either side. Red shouted, “How far to the end of the line?” “Thirty-five or forty miles at most.” The train thundered onto a wooden trestle. The trestle groaned and the fish joints set up a chorus of screams. A milky mist rose from the dark, still waters surrounding the roots of the swollen trees. It drifted thinly through the moss and vines that hung unmoving in the chill night air. Red reached under his blouse and pulled out his watch. The cracked crystal glinted in the dim light. He stopped up one ear and pressed the watch against the other, grinned and nodded. “Better ride less than an hour, I should think.” The train jumped so much and the light was so bad that they couldn’t read the hands through the cracks in the glass. Tim faced the rear of the car and lit a match. It was just past ten. He blew out the match. “Let’s jump at ten to eleven.” As the train left the trestle it slowed to pass through a sleeping village, then gathered speed again. Red asked, “You want to sleep?”