"Eh? What?" Buster was on her feet instantly.
"The train is going to hit the automobile!"
Margery's face paled. Her breath came more quickly. Her eyes grew large and wondering. The power of speech seemed suddenly to have left her. They had forgotten all about Grace Thompson in the greater interest of the moment. Margery shivered with apprehension while beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead. She was staring in terror at the onrushing car.
"Oh!" she shuddered. "There'll surely be a collision."
"Look! The chauffeur doesn't see the train on account of the dust. Don't you see the dust rising in the road ahead of the automobile? The wind is blowing it up ahead and the machine is kicking it up behind. Hoo-oo! Hoo-oo!" cried the girl, frantically waving her handkerchief to attract the attention of the driver of the car, at the same time pointing to the rapidly approaching train.
Instead of slackening speed, the driver of the motor car appeared to be putting on more. The car was rapidly nearing the railroad crossing. So was the train.
"Oh, I can't look at it," cried Margery, throwing herself on the ground and burying her face in her arms.
Hazel stood perfectly rigid. She scarcely breathed. Her eyes were wide and staring.
"Ha—as it hap-p-pened?" faltered Margery.
"No-o-o. Oh! The driver is going to be killed! Oh, oh!"