hen," cried Ned, "or the train'll pass afore you're
ready."

"You just shut up," growled Joe; "I knows what I'm about."

So saying, he began to climb over the parapet of the bridge, grasping in
his left hand the bag, which was apparently an ordinary travelling or
carpet-bag, rather below the average size. Having clambered over the
top rail, he let himself down among the huge beams which sprung out from
the great upright posts, and served to strengthen and consolidate the
whole structure.

"Mind how you get down, Joe; take care you don't slip," said more than
one voice anxiously from above.

"All right," was the reply; "I'm just ready."

"Stick fast, and mind where you drop it; she's coming!" cried Ned half-
out loud, in a voice of intense excitement.

Joe Wright was now half standing, half hanging over the up-rails, a few
feet only above where the roofs of the carriages would pass. The low,
labouring sound of the coming train had been heard for some moments
past; then it swelled into a dull roar as the light wind carried it
forward, then became fainter again as the wind lulled; and then burst
into a rushing, panting whirlwind as the engine turned the bend of the
curve. Forward dashed the train, as though it were coming with a will
to batter down the bridge at a blow; light flashing from its lamps,
fiery smoke throbbing out from the funnel in giant puffs, and a red-hot
glare glowing from beneath the furnace.

"Now then!" shouted the men from above. "All right!" Joe shouted back
in answer. "Shra-a-a-auk!" roared the train, as with diminished speed
it passed beneath them. At that moment Wright, leaning down, dropped
the bag. It fell plump on a hollow place into a tarpaulin which covered
some luggage on the roof of one of the first-class carriages, and was
whisked far away in another second, not to be disturbed from its snug
retreat till it reached the great metropolis.

"I've done it," cried Wright from below.

"Now then," cried Ned in return, "get back as fast as you can, and be
careful."

No reply. Joe was making his way back as best he could; but it was no
easy task, for his hands had become very cold, and the great oaken
supports of the bridge were slippery with the moisture which had
gathered thickly on them.

"Well done," said one of his companions, stooping over to watch his
progress; "a little more to the left, Joe."

The climber struggled upward. And now his right-hand was nearly on a
lev