Alan replied: "Can you hold the weight of the two of us for half a minute?"
Barcus shrugged: "I can try. We might as well—even if I can't."
While speaking, he was lowering himself between the ties.
"All right," he announced briefly.
With a word to Rose, Alan slipped down beside Barcus, shifted his hold to the body of the latter, and climbed down over him until he was supported solely by the grasp of his two hands on Barcus's ankles. Instantly Rose followed him, slipping down over the two men till she in turn hung by her grasp on Alan's ankles. Then she released her hold and dropped the balance of the distance to the ground, a scant ten feet, landing without injury.
A thought later Alan dropped lightly at her side, staggered a trifle, recovered, and dragged her out of the way. Then Barcus fell heavily and went upon his back, but immediately picked himself up and joined the others in a scramble for safety.
Overhead the special engine struck the caboose with a crash like the explosion of a cannon. It collapsed like a thing of pasteboard, and a shower of timbers, splinters, and broken iron rained about the heads of the fugitives.
But the gods smiled upon them for their courage—they escaped without a scratch.
