He had gained the top now and, scarcely pausing to take a long breath, he ran out over the ties till he reached Mr. Tyler’s prostrate form. He had fallen fortunately not very far from the beginning of the trestle, but he was quite unconscious and could not help himself. Roy must carry him away from his dangerous position.
He bent to his task, which was not such an arduous one as might be supposed. Mr. Tyler was little more than a bag of bones, weighing not as much as did Roy himself. The latter picked him up as carefully as he could, not daring to look down lest he should grow dizzy. Then he began to bear his burden back to terra firma.
He had almost reached the ground when the old man stirred and opened his eyes. He started to struggle, but Roy looked down at him and spoke sternly.
“Keep quiet, Mr. Tyler,” he said, “or you will have us both over the trestle.”
The miser shuddered, but he made no reply and kept perfectly still till Roy placed him on the grass in the shade of a horse chestnut tree. The boy threw himself down beside him, and began to fan himself with his straw hat. The next minute, with a shrill whistle, the train rushed by them.
“You saved my life, Roy Pell,” said Mr. Tyler after the skurrying dust raised from the ballast had settled into place. “You are a brave boy.”
Roy made no reply. He was still very hot and he was thinking that his whole adventure was very much like a scene in a book.
“I ought to say ‘Oh, it is nothing,’ I suppose,” he reflected with a half smile. “But then that wouldn’t be the truth. From the way I feel now it was a good deal.”
“I’ve missed that train, I suppose,” Mr. Tyler went on.
At this Roy wanted to laugh. It sounded so ridiculous. And yet it was quite characteristic of this singular old man. But young Pell mopped his face vigorously with his handkerchief to hide his mirth and then said, rising to his feet: