Turning sharply round, he saw a man’s dark figure in the shadow of the curving roof, and felt his heart beat.  Then the door he had been making for swung back, and he knew he had another antagonist to deal with.  He carried no pistol and there was not much chance of a shout for help being heard, but he did not wait to be attacked, and with a sudden spring threw himself upon the man in front.  He felt his knuckles jar and heard the fellow’s head crash against the vestibule, but the other seized him as he turned.  Foster surmised that they feared the report of a pistol but might use the knife, and determined to throw the fellow down the steps.  If this proved impossible, he must try to jump off the train.

So far as he could remember, the savage struggle only lasted a few moments.  His assailant had apparently not room enough to draw a weapon and Foster kept his grip on him, so that he could not free his right arm, although this left his own face exposed.  He was breathless and exhausted when he fell against the rail, but with a tense effort he lifted the fellow off his feet.  Since there seemed to be no other way, they must both fall off the train.  He lost his balance and his foot slipping from the top step threw him backward.  Then he missed the rail he clutched at and felt a heavy shock.

When his senses came back he found that he was lying on hard-frozen ground.  There were dark firs about, but, a little farther on, the rails glistened in the moonlight, and he dully realized that he had fallen off the car.  A faint snorting and a rumble that echoed across the forest showed that the train was going on.  Foster lay still and listened until the sound died away.  It looked as if nobody but the men who had attacked him knew there had been a struggle and he was left behind.  Then he cautiously raised his head and leaning on his elbow looked about.  It was a relief to find that he could do so, but he must see if his antagonist had fallen off with him, because if the fellow was not badly hurt he might renew the attack.

There was nothing in the shadow beside the line, the gap where the rails ran into the moonlight was empty, and everything was still, except for the sigh of the cold breeze among the firs.  For all that, Foster hesitated about getting up.  The train was probably going at forty miles an hour, the ground was hard, and he might find that some bones were broken when he tried to move.  The shock had perhaps dulled his senses and prevented his feeling much pain.  It was, however, bitterly cold, and making an effort he got shakily upon his feet.  To his surprise, he discovered that he was not much the worse although he felt sore and dizzy, and he sat down on a fallen branch to think what he should do.