All this time a most desperate struggle was going on between Peace and the warder. Peace, whose vitality seemed to be unbounded, was struggling with all his might, quite reckless of the consequences of falling headlong on the rails, or of being caught in the train and dashed to pieces. The warder held on to him like grim death; determined not to let go of him, but unable to secure a firmer grip of his prisoner.
The passengers all down the train had had their attention arrested by what was going on, and were craning their necks out of the windows, astonished at the spectacle which met their gaze.
The train, it is stated, ran a distance of nearly two miles whilst this exciting scene was being enacted; and then Peace succeeded in kicking off his left shoe, which remained in the warder’s hand; and he fell with all the force of his own weight and the impelling motion of the train.
In his fall his head struck the footboard of the carriage, and he rolled over into the six-foot between the up and down lines.
The train ran on about a mile further before it could be stopped, and then the warders and others jumped out and ran back along the line in pursuit of their prisoner.
They found him in the six-foot, near to where he had fallen, insensible, and blood flowing from a wound in his head.
They assisted him up, and the down slow train, which was due shortly after, was stopped, and he was lifted into the guard’s van.
In a few minutes he recovered so much consciousness as to say, “I am cold; cover me up.” Rugs were placed upon him, and in a little while he arrived in Sheffield.
NARRATIVES BY EYE-WITNESSES.
Mr. W. Barlow, fruiterer, of Retford, who attends Sheffield market, was a passenger on Wednesday morning by the fast train by which Peace was travelling.