"Oh, help!" she murmured. "Help, help!"
"Go on. Go on! Do you think I can stay in this position all day, holding up your five hundred pounds? My feet are slipping back already. I'm treading water faster'n a race horse can run right this minute."
"I guess he's started something for himself all right," jeered the clown. "Told you so. Hey, there goes the whistle! The train will be starting. We'd better be making for the sleeper."
All hands sought a more suitable climbing place, hurried up the railroad embankment and ran for the train. A crowd gathered on the rear platform, where they jeered at Tucker and his burden.
"Come—come down here and help us out," howled Teddy.
"You—you're a nice bunch, to run away when a lady is in trouble!
Come down here, I say."
Just then the train started.
Phil, at that moment, was up forward in Mr. Sparling's car, else he would have tried to stop the train; or, failing to do that, he would have gone to his companion's assistance.
By this time Teddy had turned and was bracing his back against the Fat Woman, his heels digging into the shifting cinders in a desperate attempt to prevent the woman's slipping further down.
"You'll have to do something. I'm no Samson. I can't hold the world on my back all the time, though I can support a piece of it part of the time. Do something!"
"I—I can't," wailed the Fat Woman. "There goes the train, too.
We'll be left."