As he hesitated, the eyes of the prostrate man flickered, and opened. Alex dodged back, lest the oiler should betray his presence to the men on the car. As he dropped down there came the recollection that there were two seats on the velocipede. Why not take the man with him, if he sufficiently recovered? Good!
Anxiously Alex watched as the stunned man blinked about him. Finally comprehension, then a hot flush of rage appeared in the oiler’s face, and with a violent kick he twisted about toward the car.
Springing into view, Alex caught the oiler’s startled eye, and made a warning gesture. The man stared dully for a moment, then nodded, and on Alex’s further urgent signalling, dropped back and again closed his eyes. Alex produced and opened his jack-knife.
The men above were busily fumbling about in the engine-room. Only pausing to make sure they were entirely occupied, Alex slipped forth, cautiously crept down the embankment, reached the bound man, and with a slash of the knife freed his feet and hands.
“Let us slip back to the velocipede—it’s ready to throw on the rails—and make a dash of it for the junction,” Alex whispered. The oiler arose, and with one eye on the engine-room door they crept up under the edge of the car, and on toward the rear of the train.
They reached the little track-car, and cautiously lifted it onto the rails.
“Better push it a ways,” the oiler advised in a low voice. “They might hear the rumble, with our weight on it.”
Gently they set the velocipede in motion. With the first move one of the wheels gave forth a shrill screech. The two paused as the sounds on the pilot-car immediately ceased.
“If we hear one of them going to the edge to look for me, we’ll make a run of it,” said the oiler.
“They may go on tiptoe,” Alex pointed out.