“Look alive, then,” cried Ned, “or the train’ll pass afore you’re ready.”
“You just shut up,” growled Joe; “I knows what I’m about.”
So saying, he began to climb over the parapet of the bridge, grasping in his left hand the bag, which was apparently an ordinary travelling or carpet-bag, rather below the average size. Having clambered over the top rail, he let himself down among the huge beams which sprung out from the great upright posts, and served to strengthen and consolidate the whole structure.
“Mind how you get down, Joe; take care you don’t slip,” said more than one voice anxiously from above.
“All right,” was the reply; “I’m just ready.”
“Stick fast, and mind where you drop it; she’s coming!” cried Ned half-out loud, in a voice of intense excitement.
Joe Wright was now half standing, half hanging over the up-rails, a few feet only above where the roofs of the carriages would pass. The low, labouring sound of the coming train had been heard for some moments past; then it swelled into a dull roar as the light wind carried it forward, then became fainter again as the wind lulled; and then burst into a rushing, panting whirlwind as the engine turned the bend of the curve. Forward dashed the train, as though it were coming with a will to batter down the bridge at a blow; light flashing from its lamps, fiery smoke throbbing out from the funnel in giant puffs, and a red-hot glare glowing from beneath the furnace.
“Now then!” shouted the men from above. “All right!” Joe shouted back in answer. “Shra–a–a–auk!” roared the train, as with diminished speed it passed beneath them. At that moment Wright, leaning down, dropped the bag. It fell plump on a hollow place into a tarpaulin which covered some luggage on the roof of one of the first-class carriages, and was whisked far away in another second, not to be disturbed from its snug retreat till it reached the great metropolis.
“I’ve done it,” cried Wright from below.
“Now then,” cried Ned in return, “get back as fast as you can, and be careful.”