The car moved slowly out of the railroad yard, but by the time it reached the town limits it was rattling along at such a speed as only the muscular young arms of the best man in a university crew could give it. It had gone fast on that other trip. Was it days or weeks before? Myles tried to remember, but could not. The recent rush of events had completely driven dates from his mind. At any rate, though the car seemed to go fast on that occasion, it had only crept as compared with now. Its speed on that long stretch of down-grade was simply tremendous. It was also wildly exhilarating. But for the breathlessness of his exertions Myles would have shouted and yelled in his excitement.
“Faster, faster!” rang out the whirring wheels as they spun over the gleaming track, and “Faster, faster, faster!” echoed the rails of steel.
The eastern sky was aglow with rosy light. The sun had nearly climbed to the mountain tops. Still he might be in time. If only he could get on a little faster! If only his muscles were steel and his lungs filled with steam!
But what is that ahead? A dark space in the shining track. A rail gone. Myles sprang to the brake. Its iron shoe ground fire from the iron wheel. The headlong speed of the car was slackened, but not enough. It could not stop before the danger-point was reached. Then came a crash, and Myles was flung forward on the hard road-bed.
Bruised and sadly shaken, but with unbroken bones, he picked himself up and turned to look at the wreck. The car also seemed shaken, but, to his surprise, it was still whole and serviceable. There was yet hope if he only could get it over this place and again on the track. His excitement lent him strength, and by a mighty effort he accomplished that which, under ordinary circumstances, two men would have found difficult.
THE CAR PLUNGED FORWARD, TURNED COMPLETELY OVER, AND CRUSHED POOR MYLES BENEATH IT. (Page [213].)
Once more the car was ready for its onward flight. As it started Myles heard shouts, and, looking back, saw men running and beckoning to him. At the same moment he heard the far-away whistle of a locomotive ahead of him. He bent to the crank, and in another minute his pursuers lost sight of the car and the one straining figure that it bore.
Now it approached the Horseshoe curve. Yes, Myles remembered the place perfectly. The track looked all right. The sun had risen and he could see the line plainly. Perhaps the place from which the rails were torn was the trap, and he had passed it. Perhaps he was on hand and with time to spare.