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"A thousand! Nonsense " "Two thousand, then." "What do you mean " "Just this!" cried the oiler, and simultaneously there was a rush of feet and a sound of blows. Exultingly Alex was scrambling forth to go to the oiler's assistance, when just above him was a crash of falling bodies, and a figure bounded over the side of the car and rolled sprawling down the embankment.
Why not take the man with him, if he sufficiently recovered? Good! Anxiously Alex watched as the stunned man blinked about him. Finally comprehension, then a hot flush of rage appeared in the oiler's face, and with a violent kick he twisted about toward the car. Springing into view, Alex caught the oiler's startled eye, and made a warning gesture.
As I obediently crawled into the hiding place, the mate kicked in after me the remainder of the oiler's clothing which I had been trying to put on and pulled the disarranged bedding half off the bunk the better to hide me. Then he opened the door and several men entered.
Alex, the superintendent and the Indian were to the oiler's assistance in a twinkle, however, and a few minutes later saw the renegade in their midst on the way to the boarding train and, as it finally proved, to the jail at Exeter. "I don't know who to thank most," said Superintendent Finnan later "you, Ward, or the oiler, or Little Hawk. Nor what appreciation to suggest higher up."
He daresn't add murder to it. And he'd be heard at the junction." The runner snapped his gun back into its holster, and putting on an extra spurt, rushed slanting up the embankment, and threw himself bodily upon the oiler. They tumbled off backwards in a struggling heap. Throwing his weight against the handles, Alex stopped the velocipede, sprang off, and dashed to the oiler's assistance.
Alex exclaimed. "The creek bridge is just ahead. That'll stop him," said the oiler. The second man appeared, and joined in the chase. The first runner saw the bridge, and redoubled his efforts. In spite of their best endeavors, he drew rapidly nearer. A hand shot out to clutch the oiler's shoulder.
He takes them very calmly, too, and looking good-naturedly at the old man enters into conversation. "You are going to sell your cattle, I suppose.... It's good business!" Malahin sighs and, looking calmly at the oiler's black face, tells him that trading in cattle used certainly to be profitable, but now it has become a risky and losing business. "I have a mate here," the oiler interrupts him.
With the first move one of the wheels gave forth a shrill screech. The two paused as the sounds on the pilot-car immediately ceased. "If we hear one of them going to the edge to look for me, we'll make a run of it," said the oiler. "They may go on tiptoe," Alex pointed out. The suggestion was followed by a sharp exclamation from the head of the train. "The oiler's gone!" cried a voice.
"We don't know," Rip sounded tired, beaten. "Meanwhile," he got to his feet, "we'd better set a course home " "Home," Weeks repeated. To him Terra was not his own home he had been born in the polar swamps of Venus. But to All Solarians no matter which planet had nurtured them Terra was home. "You," Rip's big hand fell gently on the little oiler's shoulder, "stay here with Thorson "
Dane, watching that harvest, caught sight of a smoothly polished length. He called Weeks' attention to the water rounded cylinder. The oiler's eyes lighted and he stooped to pick it up. Where the other sticks were from grass trees this was something else. And among the bleached pile it had the vividness of flame. For it was a strident scarlet.
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