Phil let drive his tent stake. It caught Red on the shoulder,
bowling the rascal over like a nine pin.
Phil Forrest uttered a yell of exultation, suddenly dropping to
the floor of the car at the imminent risk of his life.
The men were now piling over the cars in his direction. He did
not know whether they had seen Red jump or not. Phil did not
waste any time in idle speculation.
"Come on!" he shouted, springing to the edge of the car,
keeping himself from falling by grasping a wheel of the wagon.
Then Phil Forrest did a daring thing. Crouching low,
choosing his time unerringly, he jumped from the train.
Fortunately for him, the cars were running slowly up the
heavy grade. But, slowly as they were going, the lad turned
several rapid handsprings after having struck the ground,
coming to a stop halfway down the slope, somewhat dazed
from the shock and sudden whirling about.
But he was on his feet in a twinkling, and running toward the
spot where Red was painfully picking himself up. Phil slipped
and stumbled as the cinders gave way beneath his feet but ran
on with a grim determination not to let his man escape him
this time.
Both were now weaponless, so far as the lad knew.
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