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"Well, we'll get across the track now," said he, and lifting his bundle he started away smartly as though, the show over, he was off upon his way, and that it led east.

Hank and I followed at once, but as soon as we had passed the caboose we turned and hurried forward upon the far side of the train.

"Now," said Hank, "we couldn't get on before—too many looking. And besides, we didn't know what cars were going to be left here. There's a box-car with the door full open on this side and just a little bit ajar on the other. If she starts before we get that length, run with us. We'll throw our bindles up and then jump. We'll show you how first, and then be ready to grab you and drag you in after us."

And then she started, and we ran.

"Come on—oh, not such a hell of a scramble on the clinkers," hissed Slim.

We came level with the selected car, door wide open on our side.

"In with the bindles!" said Hank and, as we tossed them up he growled: "Now we've got to make it!"

Slim put hands to the floor of the car, pacing along in big strides beside it, and leapt, got a knee up, rolled in. In a second Hank followed, though he had almost to run alongside instead of stride. They looked back anxiously for me, both bending down to grab me but, before the speed was too great, I had performed the necessary gymnastics and was inside. On tiptoe we sneaked into the corner where we had thrown our blanket-rolls and sat down upon them, my heart going rub-a-dub, sat quietly on our bindles, looking from one to the other. There! We were out of Ashcroft. Then Slim rose.