Still he kept on.
“Not yet!”
The train was close to the little village, but the black horse bore its rider toward the crossing.
Merry saw the train for a moment, then lost it behind some houses. He tore off his hat and waved it as he went madly galloping toward that crossing.
Behind him the pursuers again shouted their triumph.
“You haven’t got me yet!” muttered the desperate youth. “I’d do ’most anything to give you the slip now.”
He was near the crossing when the engine went past. The engineer did not see him, and he knew his last chance to stop the train had passed.
He could not check the horse, and one or two open-mouthed, staring villagers believed he would dash straight against the cars, be hurled to the ground, possibly mangled beneath the iron wheels.
With all his strength Frank turned the horse to one side, so that it was going in the same direction as the train.
Then he formed a resolve, marvelous, daring, foolhardy. The pursuers gasped, for they saw him rise to his knees on the back of the horse. Then, with the skill of a circus rider, he stood upright on the back of the galloping animal!