They shot from the rear of the train like projectiles from a catapult, rolling over and over down a steep embankment. Two got up very slowly but the third lay as if dead.
"Where's Sheehan?" cried the engineer; "we haven't lost him I hope."
"Gosh! he's in the coal!" exclaimed Jim.
He leaped into the tender and saw a movement under the coal. Working frantically, Jim was able to drag their submerged ally from the retreat that had almost buried him. The cold air brought him to, and he rose staggeringly to his feet.
"Yer started your thrain too suddint, Mr. Ketchel, and pulled two ton of coal over my poor head," cried the fireman in half humorous indignation. "Why didn't you whistle and give me fair warning as to your intentions. And how did you lads escape without bullets in your hides. Yer must have charmed lives the both of you."
"How many of 'em did you get, Bill," yelled back the engineer from his cab.
"Aye, there is many of them that will carry black marks the rest of their lives, where I handed them some chunks of coal."
"The company will take it out of your salary for wasting their coal," remarked Ketchel.
"And shure and they ain't none too good to do it," remarked Bill Sheehan with conviction.
"Get in, Bill, and throw what coal you have got left into that boiler; we have got to make the siding this side of the Divide to get out of the way of 'The Eastern Express.' That little fracas back there cost us fifteen minutes."