He shouted at the top of his voice, then beat against the heavy
door with fists and feet, but not a sign could he get that anyone
heard him.
As a matter of fact, no one was near him at that moment. The
long
freight train had stopped at a water tank far out in the country,
and the trainmen were at the extreme ends of the train.
In a few moments the train started with such a jerk that Forrest
was thrown off his feet. He sprang up again, hoping that the
train might be going past a station there, and that someone might
hear him. Then he began rattling at and kicking the door again.
It was all to no purpose.
Finally, in utter exhaustion, the lad sank to the floor, soon
falling into a deep sleep. How long he slept he did not know
when at last he awakened.
"Why, the train has stopped," Forrest exclaimed, suddenly sitting
up and rubbing his eyes. "Now I ought to make somebody hear me
because it's daylight. I can see the light underneath the door.
I'll try it again."
He did try it, hammering at the door and shouting at intervals
during the long hours that followed. Once more he lighted
matches and began examining his surroundings with more care.
Phil discovered a trap door in the roof, but it was closed.
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