"I know it," she gasped, her body rocking violently with the swaying of the wild, top-heavy little car.
"Great Scott! How we're pounding it! Fifty miles an hour. Where are we?" he cried, aghast. He could scarcely keep his feet, so terrific was the speed and so sickening the motion.
She got to her feet and lurched to his side. "Don't fall out!" she almost shrieked. He drew back with her. Together they swayed like reeds in a windstorm, staring dizzily at the wall before them.
Suddenly the train shot out into the open, farm-spattered valley. Truxton fell back dumbfounded.
"The country!" he exclaimed. "We've been carried away. I—I can't believe my senses. Could we have slept—what a fool, what an idiot! God in heaven! The Prince! He is lost!" He was beside himself with anguish and despair, raging like a madman, cursing himself for a fool, a dog, a murderer!
Little less distressed than her companion, Loraine Tullis still had the good sense to keep him from leaping from the car. He had shouted to her that he must get back to the city; she could go on to the next town and find a hiding place. He would come to her as soon as he had given the alarm.
"You would be killed," she cried, clutching his arm fiercely. "You never can jump, Truxton. See how we are running. If you jump, I shall follow. I won't go on alone. I am as much to blame as you."
The big, strong fellow broke down and cried, utterly disheartened.
"Don't cry, Truxton, please don't cry!" she pleaded. "Something will happen. We must stop sometime. Then we can get another train back, or telegraph, or hire a wagon. It must be very early. The sun is scarcely up. Do be brave! Don't give up!"
He squared his shoulders. "You put me to shame!" he cried abjectly. "I'm—I'm unnerved, that's all. It was too much of a blow. After we'd got away from those scoundrels so neatly, too. Oh, it's maddening! I'll be all right in a minute. You plucky, plucky darling!"