“Reckon that’s what it is. This must be the central division of the Long Island Railroad,” said Tubby. “Wow, we’ve come way out of our way.”
“They must be off, too,” said Rob; “we simply followed our leaders.”
“Say, hold on, Rob!” cried Merritt, suddenly; “look! that train’s almost at the crossing now!”
“That’s right, I just saw the headlight among the trees,” echoed Tubby; “better slow down.”
“Guess so,” assented Rob, as the thunder of the approaching train was borne plainly to their ears. It was evidently, as they had guessed, a night freight, and from the noise the locomotive was making it must have been a big one.
“Woo-oo-oo-ough!”
“There goes the whistle. I guess there are no gates ahead,” said Merritt. “Now’s our chance to sneak upon those other fellows, they—Gee whiz, look at that!”
As he spoke the other auto, which had hesitated for an instant as the whistle of the approaching train sounded, dashed on ahead.
“They’re going to try to beat the train to the crossing,” exclaimed Rob.
“They’ll never do it,” was Merritt’s rejoinder. “Look! Oh, good gracious!”