Just how it happened, neither of them could tell afterward, but over the gate whirled the man, and down toward the seething torrent he shot!
Up from that falling figure came a wild cry of horror that was heard above the fumbling roar of the train on the trestle bridge.
Over and over the figure turned, the skirts fluttering, and then headlong it plunged into the white foam of the torrent, disappearing from view.
On the rear platform of the last car two white-faced, horrified young men had watched the terrible fall. They stared down at the swirling river, looking for the unfortunate wretch to reappear. Off the bridge flew the train, and no longer were they able to see the river.
“He’s gone!” came hoarsely from Bart.
“Then you saw—you knew it was a man?” cried Frank.
“Yes, I saw his trousers beneath the skirts as I came out the door.”
“This is terrible!” muttered Frank.
“He was trying to throw you over?”
“Yes; attempted to take me off my guard and hurl me from the train.”