"The caboose must be cut out of this runaway," Bryce soliloquized,
"and it must be cut out in a devil of a hurry. Here goes nothing in
particular, and may God be good to my dear old man."
He jerked his axe out of the log, drove it deep into the top log
toward the end, and by using the haft to cling to, crawled toward the
rear of the load and looked down at the caboose coupling. The top log
was a sixteen-foot butt; the two bottom logs were eighteen footers.
With a silent prayer of thanks to Providence, Bryce slid down to the
landing thus formed. He was still five feet above the coupling,
however; but by leaning over the swaying, bumping edge and swinging
the axe with one hand, he managed to cut through the rubber hose on
the air connection. "The blamed thing might hold and drag the caboose
along after I've pulled out the coupling-pin," he reflected. "And I
can't afford to take chances now."
Nevertheless he took them. Axe in hand, he leaped down to the narrow
ledge formed by the bumper in front of the cabooses--driving his face
into the front of the caboose; and he only grasped the steel rod
leading from the brake-chains to the wheel on the roof in time to
avoid falling half stunned between the front of the caboose and the
rear of the logging-truck. The caboose had once been a box-car; hence
there was no railed front platform to which Bryce might have leaped
in safety.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180