Paw stepped onto the shoulder of the roadbed. The train was slowing. He winked at me and Will, grinned, trotted along beside a gondola, caught the ladder, swung aboard and climbed to the top. As he moved away we saw him pull a sack from his shoulder and commence to stuffing it with coal. He faded into the moonlight.

The train was moving slower and slower. Will and I looked at each other. “Dare you,” I said. I knew if he did I could. He knew it too. Paw was out of sight. We heard a faint thump ahead as the first sack of coal fell to the cinder-bank.

Will hesitated for about two seconds. “Okay,” he said. “Watch me close. Run with the train. Don’t forget to lean forward when you jump off. Land a-runnin’.” He glanced both ways. The train kept rattling around the curve, car after car. “We’ll get off as soon as we cross the bridge.”

He turned and jogged, grasped a steel rung and lifted himself from the ground, standing with one foot on the bottom step. I reached for the ladder of the next car, grabbed and hung on. The train jerked me forward but I got my feet on the ladder. I watched Will holding on with one hand, showing off, leaning far out to see ahead to the trestle crossing.

The train rumbled slowly on. Will’s gondola crossed the bridge; he jumped off and ran forward a few steps, easily keeping his balance. Paw’s first sack of coal, neatly tied, lay on the cinders beside the track. Many more beyond. Will looked up at me as I glided past. “Okay, Henry, jump off.” I grinned and clung to the ladder. “Henry!” he shouted, “you get off there.” I thumbed my nose at him and rode on.

I was enjoying the ride. Just a little bit farther, I thought, then I’ll jump. Looking back I saw Will drag a sack of coal to the edge of the embankment and roll it down toward the wagon lane in the woods. That reminded me how angry Paw would get if he found out I hadn’t helped.

I’ll ride to the top of the grade, I thought, then jump off, sneak around the old man and rejoin Will at the lower end. I looked ahead but could not see the engine; it was already in the big cut at the top of the hill.

A man walked toward me down the shoulder of the railway. It was Paw. I shrank against the dark side of the gondola, trying to make myself invisible. He stooped over a loaded sack, checking the tie and pushing it off the bank. He never noticed me.

Now, I thought, better get off this here train before I get in trouble. I looked down at the cinders and crossties beneath my feet. They were passing faster than before. I braced my nerves to let go, make the jump. But hesitated.

You got to jump, I told myself. But it was too late; I sensed it in the rattle of the wheels over the joints in the rails, the scream of the whistle, the locomotive highballing down the far grade. An icy wind streamed past my ears. Wait for the next hill, I thought. I crawled into the space under the sloping bulkhead of the car and found protection from the wind. Not much. I pulled down the earflaps of my cap, buttoned the collar of my coat, sat tight and waited.