He saw Shillito's hand go up and next moment got a heavy blow. For all
that, he seized the man and held on, though blood ran into his eyes and
he felt dizzy. Shillito struggled like a savage animal and Lister
imagined the trooper did not help much. He got his arms round his
antagonist and tried to pull him down; Shillito was trying to reach the
opening in the rails. After a moment or two, Lister felt his muscles
getting slack, lurched forward, and saw nothing in front. He plunged out
from the gap, struck a step with his foot, and somebody fell on him.
Then he thought he heard a rifle-shot, and knew nothing more.

By and by somebody pulled him to his feet and he saw the conductor
holding his arm. A group of excited passengers stood round them in the
light that shone from the train and some others ran along the edge of
the woods. The trooper and Shillito were gone.

Lister's head hurt, he felt shaky, and when he wiped his face his hand
was wet with blood.

"My head's cut. S'pose I hit something when I fell," he said.

"Shillito socked it to you pretty good," the conductor replied, and
waved his lamp. "All aboard!" he shouted, and pushed Lister up the
steps.

When they reached the platform the car jolted and Lister sat down, with
his back against the door.

"My legs won't hold me," he said in an apologetic voice. "Did Shillito
get off?"