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 bottle of boiling coffee. Again the train whistled; it was now barely an eighth of a mile away. Bud stooped down and gazed doubtfully at the train, and again Redcoat looked up at him imploringly. The cap came off but the cork stuck in the bottle. Bud worked at it desperately for a second or two, but the locomotive whistled frantically for him to get off the track and for down brakes. He could waste no more time, so with a quick movement he broke the nozzle of the bottle on the rail as close up to Redcoat's jaws as he could. The boiling coffee released the fox's tongue as suddenly as though Bud had released the jaws of a steel trap. The rails were now clicking beneath his feet, and the solid earth was shaking. Bud sprang backward with all his strength and rolled down the embankment on one side of the track, while Redcoat sprang to the other side, and with a roar of car wheels the thunderer rushed by. Another second and boy and fox would have shared the fate of the unfortunate doe. From his sprawling position in the ditch