Through the narrow streets congested with traffic they were forced to go more slowly, and Mr. Willing looked at his watch impatiently from time to time.
“Seven minutes!” he said, and they were still some distance from their destination, and then the first cab stopped to let a car pass in front of it.
“Hurry!” commanded Mr. Willing of his driver. “We haven’t got all day to get there. Let the street cars do the waiting after this.”
The chauffeur nodded and the cab leaped forward, scattering pedestrians right and left, darting in and out among other vehicles, avoiding a collision as though by a miracle. The second cab came close behind.
At last the station was reached and all dismounted hurriedly. With Mr. Willing in the lead they ran through the station to the train shed. Here the conductor had just called “All aboard!”
Mr. Willing heard him, and urged the others on faster. They passed through the gate, Mr. Willing assisted the girls and Colonel Ashton up the steps, then climbed up himself. And as he did so, Shirley, who had turned to look at him, cried:
“Where’s Dick?”
Mr. Willing looked around, then stood nonplussed. Dick was not here. The train began to move.
There came a shout from behind and a young man came dashing after the train. Shirley cried out in alarm. It was Dick.
The train had gathered headway now and was slipping along beneath the shed more rapidly. Dick sprinted, gained, clutched the handrail of the car and swung himself aboard just as the train gathered even greater speed.