The train was now high on the embankment over the roadway. The two boys sliding down the hill looked very small, indeed, below the car windows.
“Suppose a wagon should start up the hill,” murmured Dorothy.
“There’s none in sight. I never saw the road more deserted—oh, Doro!”
Tavia uttered this cry before she thought. She had looked far ahead to the foot of the hill and had seen something that her friend had not yet observed.
“What is it?” gasped Dorothy, whose gaze was still fixed upon her brothers.
“My dear! The bridge!”
The words burst from Tavia involuntarily. She could not keep them in.
At the foot of the hill the road forked as has before been shown. To the left it crossed the railroad tracks at grade. Of course, these reckless boys had not intended to try for the crossing ahead of the train. But the main road, which kept straight on beside the tracks, crossed the creek on a wooden bridge. Tavia, looking ahead, saw that the bridge boards were up and there was a rough fence built across the main road!
“They’ll be killed!” screamed Dorothy Dale, and sank back into her chair.
The train was now pitching down the grade. It was still a mile to the foot of the slope where railroad and highway were on a level again. The boys in their little “scooter” were traveling faster than the train itself, for the brakes had been applied when the descent was begun.