As they ran down the hill they could hear the hounds. They reached the little brook and ran in the water for a hundred yards or so until the sound of the dogs was disturbingly close. Then they dashed up the ridge toward the railroad track.
They approached the track. They were gasping for breath and the baying of the hounds was sharp in their ears. Lanterns bobbed at the bottom of the hill. The hopelessness of flight struck Tim with sickening force.
When they reached the track a new sound broke the air. The fugitives listened and the sound came again, the shriek of a whistle off to the south. Without a word to each other they jumped the track and ran like madmen along the embankment. Now the hounds were close, their baying rose above the roar of the approaching engine. A shot rang out.
The train moved toward them, lumbering along at what seemed a snail’s pace. The engineers must have seen the hunters. The whistle shrieked repeatedly.
Tim looked over his shoulder and before he knew it the towering funnel stood above them, belching smoke and flame. The light of the headlamp flooded the rails.
Now the hounds were just across the track, and Kane’s figure rose in his stirrups as his horse shrieked and reared in fright. Tim ran at top speed, leapt to a flatcar and hung on for his life. He worked himself onto the car, sank to the planks and rested a moment before he looked back.
The car behind was a flatcar, too, and Red was clinging to a stanchion in the middle of the car. Tim jumped to his feet, and above the thunder of the rolling cars the whine of a bullet split the air. He jumped the coupling, stumbled over some loose timber and grasped Red’s arm, pulling upward with all his might. The ground slid past his vision like a crazy quilt. Something gave way and he lost his footing. He fell backward and hit the flatcar with sickening force.
At first his eyes were sightless and there was terrible thunder in his ears. Someone was shaking him and slapping his cheeks. He opened his eyes and saw Red bending over him. Tim said, “I thought I’d lost you.”
Red pointed to his ears and shook his head to show he couldn’t hear.
Tim lay still for a while. His head was splitting. When he raised it the light of the moon touched Red’s face. Red’s hair was wild and his cheek was cut and streaked with blood.