Paul, instinctively guessing that the danger came from the villain he had foiled, sprang aside just in time to avoid a terrible blow which had been aimed at his head by the very club he had himself used. The blow falling on empty air, by its very impetuosity upset the wretch who sought to inflict it, and he tumbled prone over the body of Bradford.
But he had made a serious mistake. The engineer of the train, a man of immense strength, had seen the abortive attempt, and he sprang forward.
When the train-wrecker was attempting to rise, he found himself seized by the collar by an iron hand. He was jerked to his feet with a power against which he was powerless to contend, and shaken till his bones seemed to rattle.
"What are you trying to do, you rascal?" he exclaimed.
"Stop shaking me, and I will tell you," said the man, sullenly.
"There; now tell me at once," said the engineer, still grasping him firmly, but ceasing to shake him.
"That boy almost broke my arm," said the train-wrecker, with a look of furious malice, "and I mean to get even with him; that's the whole of it."
"No; it isn't quite the whole," said Paul. "What were you doing when I struck you?"
"Taking care of this man."
"Taking care of him!" retorted the train boy, in a tone of sarcasm. "I'll tell you how he was taking care of him, Mr. Barnes; he was rifling his pockets."