"Sit down!" commanded Cora.
"But stop!" pleaded Isabel. "We'll all be killed! Stop! Oh, Cora, stop!"
"I'm trying to!" was the grim reply. "But—I can't the brake—the brake is jammed!"
The last words came out jerkily, for Cora was pulling on the brake handle with all her force.
Nearer and nearer sounded the approaching train. The auto was sliding down the hill with ever-increasing speed, but Cora never let go her hold of the steering wheel.
Once more she tried to pull the brake lever. It would not come back another notch. The engineer of the train was blowing more frantic signals. He leaned from his cab window and motioned the auto back. He even seemed to be shouting to them.
Cora braced both feet against the brake pedal.
She took a firmer grasp of the wheel. The seams of her new gloves were starting from the strain. There was a desperate look on her face.
"Oh, we'll be killed! We'll be killed!" screamed Isabel. "We can't get across in time!"
She leaned over, and fell into her sister's arms, while Cora, with a keen glance to either side, stiffened in her seat. There was a bare chance of safety.