Page:Top-Notch Magazine, May 1 1915 (IA tn 1915 05 01).pdf/41

 on one of those beams while the train rushed past would not have called for any unusual amount of nerve, but both the men were trapped midway between the beams, which were some fifty feet apart.

It was possible that Ruthven could have gained the nearest water barrel; yet, if he had been able to make it, he feared that the hand car, on being tossed from the track, might strike him. One expedient after another flashed through his mind while deep, wild blasts of warning came from the whistle of the locomotive.

Morrison, cool enough now that the first shock of alarm had passed, jumped to the ends of the ties and lowered himself so that he swung by his arms beneath the bridge. This was the only course to take that promised safety, and Ruthven had already decided upon it. He, too, gripped the end of a tie and dangled above the water.

The bridge was shaking under the rushing weight of the train. It was a fast freight. Two crashes in quick succession could be heard as the pilot struck the speeder and the hand car, hurling both clear of the bridge and far out into the river. The freight had almost passed when Morrison slipped from his hold and shot downward.

Ruthven could have held on, and drawn himself back to safety after the caboose had gone by. If he did this, however, he feared that Morrison might escape. Giving his body an outward swing, he let go the tie and fell.

He succeeded in turning himself in mid-air so that he made a fairly good dive into the water. Down and down he went into the churning waters, and when he came to the surface and cleared his eyes he could see Morrison swim- ming powerfully for the western bank. The other bank was so steep for a long distance that a landing there was impossible. Ruthven struck out in the wake of the crook.

The Weasel held the advantage in this that he was lightly clad. Ruthven, incumbered with all his clothes, had the harder fight. But he was the better swimmer and held his own in the race for the bank. Morrison got ashore first and dragged himself clear of the slime and ooze at the river's margin. His scanty apparel clung to his limbs, and his hair hung down over his face and eyes. He pushed back his drenched locks, gave one look over his shoulder, and began hurrying toward the railroad track.

Ruthven was nearly water-logged as he came out of the river. He had kept all his clothes but his hat, and the water squirted from his soggy shoes as he walked. "Halt, Morrison!" he yelled. "You can't get away!"

The crook flung back a shout of defiance and continued on toward the high bank leading to the bridge approach. Ruthven made after him, trailing small rivers of water as he went. His clothes may have been dampened, but his ardor for the chase was in nowise diminished.

At the bushes which covered the railroad embankment, Morrison paused. Ruthven saw him drop to his knees and draw into sight the satchel he had flung from the speeder. Opening the satchel, Morrison reached into it and jerked forth a small revolver. Springing up, he whirled and lifted the weapon.

No more than a dozen feet separated the two men. "You halt!" Morrison cried. "You've butted into my plans once too often, Ruthven. You are the only one between me and liberty, and I've sworn I shall never see the inside of the 'pen'!"

Bang! went the revolver. Ruthven stood unscathed, although the range was well-night point-blank. Bang, bang, bang! Four times Morrison pressed the trigger, and still the big half back remained erect, himself wondering why he sustained no mortal hurt.

Morrison cursed and flung aside the