Again came a whistle, and the creaking of brakes. Immediately the brakeman slid the car door back a few inches, flashed his lantern four times, muffled it, and ran the door open its full width.
The critical moment had come. Gathering himself together, Jack braced with knees and elbows. The trainman seized the box, swung it to the door, and tipped it forward. The next instant Jack felt himself hurled out into the darkness.
For one terrible moment he felt himself hurtling through space. Then came a crackle of branches, the box whirled over and over, again plunged downward, and brought up with a crash.
A brief space Jack lay dazed, in a heap, head down. But he had been only slightly stunned, and recovering, he righted himself, and found with satisfaction that he had suffered no more than a bruise of the scalp and an elbow.
He had not long to speculate on his whereabouts. From near at hand came a sound of breaking twigs, and a voice.
THE NEXT INSTANT JACK FELT HIMSELF HURLED OUT INTO
THE DARKNESS.
“Here’s one,” it said.