He was hurt the worst of all, and the busiest getting in marching
order again. "Howly smoke!" he panted. "I was havin' the time of
me life, and plum forgot that cow-kitcher. Thought it was a
quarter of a mile away yet. And liked to killed meself with me
carelessness. But that's always the way in true sport. You got to
take the knocks with the fun." No one asked the Thread Man if he
was hurt, and he did not like to seem unmanly by mentioning a
skinned shin, when Jimmy Malone seemed to have bursted most of
his inside; so he shouldered his gun and limped along, now
slightly in the rear of Jimmy. The river bridge was a serious
matter with its icy coat, and danger of specials, and the
torches suddenly flashed out from all sides; and the Thread Man
gave thanks for Dannie Macnoun, who reached him a steady hand
across the ties. The walk was three miles, and the railroad lay
at from twenty to thirty feet elevation along the river and
through the bottom land. The Boston man would have been thankful
for the light, but as the last man stepped from the ties of the
bridge all the torches went out save one. Jimmy explained they
simply had to save them so that they could see where the coon
fell when they began to shake the coon tree.
Just beside the water tank, and where the embankment was twenty
feet sheer, Jimmy was cautioning the Boston man to look out, when
the hunter next behind him gave a wild yell and plunged into his
back.
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