"Missed it!" he groaned to himself. "And now those villains have me completely in their power."
It was not a pleasant thought, and therefore Hal did not allow his mind to dwell upon it.
He wondered if he could get open one of the doors of the coach, and leap, or rather tumble, to the ground. It would be a dangerous experiment, considering how he was tied up, but Hal was willing to assume desperate risks just now.
He fumbled around with his bound hands for fully five minutes, and at last succeeded in turning the handle to one of the coach doors, which immediately swung open.
Hal looked out. They were on an almost deserted road. It was quite dark, and still snowing.
"If I drop out here I may be frozen to death before I can free myself," he thought. "I will wait until we pass a house of some sort."
Hal had hardly reached this conclusion before the coach rolled past an elegant road-house, brilliantly illuminated from top to bottom.
"Now is my chance," he thought. "There ought to be somebody around to pick me up."
Losing no time, for they had now passed several rods beyond the road-house, the plucky boy wriggled his body toward the open door of the coach.
Watching for what he thought a favorable opportunity, Hal gave himself a lurch forward and tumbled out into the snow. But as he did so one of the rear wheels of the coach struck him on the side of the head, and the blow rendered him unconscious.