"They'll go right into that wrecked bridge!" gasped Jack, with horror. "Can't we head 'em off? Swing around, Jimmie, and flag 'em!"
"Sure," urged Harry excitedly. "Hurry! Hurry!"
Jimmie was already tugging desperately at the levers. He brought the Grey Eagle about so sharply that the machine careened to a most alarming angle, threatening to execute another upside down movement.
By throwing his weight sharply against the lever controlling the vanes, however, Jimmie avoided the completion of this reverse, and brought the machine again to its normal position. Heading back over the course they had so recently traveled, he brought the machine low down and skimmed along at a swift pace only a short distance above the track.
In plain view now, the onrushing train rushed madly along with its burden. Plainly the engine crew were doing their utmost to cover as much ground in as little time as lay within their power.
An immense cloud of black smoke was vomited from the stack, tossed upward by the sharp exhaust. It trailed like an ever-growing streamer, hiding the coaches from the view of our friends.
"How shall we stop them?" questioned Ned sharply. "We haven't a red flag nor anything with which to signal them."
"Swing 'em down!" suggested Harry eagerly. "They'll stop!"
"I don't know whether the French railroad men understand the signals used on United States roads or not!" Ned replied. "They're getting closer and we must do something!" he added.
"Land on the track and they'll stop!" proposed Jack.