Summary

Wyn Roosevelt Frontier Boys in Frisco

Then the Mexican bent low and darted out of sight, and his sturdy companion bounding high in the air disappeared.
Jim was thrown suddenly backward; as in mad pursuit, he dashed into an almost invisible fence of wire, steel colored,—which luckily was not barbed. The engineer who was a few paces behind, stopped in the nick of time, his outstretched hand easily breaking the force of his collision.
"Hurt, Jim?" he queried.
"Naw!" replied James. "Come on, John, let's see if you can jump like his whiskers."
"I'm no rat like that greaser," replied Berwick; "I can't crawl through, I've got to jump."
Source: Gutenberg

Wyn Roosevelt Frontier Boys in Frisco

Jim would never think of the first; death was better than that. It was only a question of a few minutes before the door would be down and their capture or death certain. Nothing needed to be said. Jim put out the dim lamp as Berwick reached the leaded casement window.
In a moment they were out on a narrow balcony of iron, but green with ivy and a rambler rose, that hung and nodded near the casement. The dim light of morning was seeping through the heavy folds of fog, and spreading in steel-like patches over the dark-hued Pacific.
Source: Gutenberg

Wyn Roosevelt Frontier Boys in Frisco

With a roar and swaying of the big engine, the train rushed down upon them and swept past with its hind heels or wheels kicking up the dust. Then its tail lights of cherry red grew dim way down the valley.
"All aboard, boys," cried Ketchel as No. 10 passed; "we've got some time to make up."
"He'll stop just short of murder to the train," declared the fireman who knew his engineer when it came to a question of picking up a few minutes of time.
"He will swing her like he used to drive the old stagecoach on the down grade," remarked Jim, "and that will be going some."
Source: Gutenberg

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