"They're talking about you back there in the coaches, Fairbanks," reported the conductor a little later. "They know about your arrangements for their comfort, and they're chatting and laughing, and taking it all in like a regular picnic."
"I suppose you've been giving me undue credit, you modest old hero!" laughed Ralph.
"Hello!" suddenly exclaimed Fogg; "now, what is that?"
All hands stared far to the west. A dim red flame lit the sky. Then it appeared in a new spot, still far away. This was duplicated until there were vague red pencils of light piercing the sky from various points of the compass.
"It's queer," commented the conductor. "Something's in action, but what, and how?"
"There!" exclaimed Fogg, as suddenly seemingly just beyond the heavy drift immediately in front of the train the same glare was seen.
"Yes, and here, too!" shouted out the conductor, jumping back.
Almost at his feet something dropped from midair like a rocket, a bomb. It instantly burst out in a vivid red flame. Ralph investigated, and while thus engaged two more of the colored messengers, projectiles, fireworks, whatever they were, rained down, one about half-way down the train, the other beyond it.
