oned the fight? I do not know. One never knows, and one must be
prepared every moment for anything. As the first blind comes opposite
me, and I run to leap aboard, I strain my eyes to see if the shack is
on the platform. For all I know he may be there, with his lantern
doused, and even as I spring upon the steps that lantern may smash
down upon my head. I ought to know. I have been hit by lanterns two or
three times.

But no, the first blind is empty. The train is gathering speed. I am
safe for another station. But am I? I feel the train slacken speed. On
the instant I am alert. A manoeuvre is being executed against me, and
I do not know what it is. I try to watch on both sides at once, not
forgetting to keep track of the tender in front of me. From any one,
or all, of these three directions, I may be assailed.

Ah, there it comes. The shack has ridden out the engine. My first
warning is when his feet strike the steps of the right-hand side of
the blind. Like a flash I am off the blind to the left and running
ahead past the engine. I lose myself in the darkness. The situation is
where it has been ever since the train left Ottawa. I am ahead, and
the train must come past me if it is to proceed on its journey. I have
as good a chance as ever for boarding her.

I watch carefully. I see a lantern come forward to the engine, and I
do not see it go back from the engine. It must therefore be still on
the engine, and it is a fair assumption that attached to the handle of
that lantern is a shack. That shack was lazy, or else he would have
put out his lantern instead of trying to shield it as he came forward.
The train pulls out. The first blind is empty, and I gain it. As
before the train slackens, the shack from the engine boards the blind
from one side, and I go off the other side and run forward.

As I wait in the darkness I am conscious of a big thrill of pride. The
overland has stopped twice for me--for me, a poor hobo on the bum. I
alone have twice stopped the overland with its many passengers and
coaches, its government mail, and its two thousand steam horses
straining in the engine. And I weigh only one hundred and sixty
pounds, and I haven't a five-cent piece in my pocket!

Again I see the lantern come forward to the engine. But this time it
comes conspicuously. A bit too conspicuously to suit me, and I wonder
what is up. At any rate I have something else to be afraid of than the
shack on the engine. The train pull