The play that won

by Ralph Henry Barbour

“That settles it!” groaned Mr. Fletcher.

Tom calculated the distance, pulled down the throttle, and Puff sprang madly forward.

“Reach past me and blow the horn!” Tom gasped.

Mr. Fletcher obeyed. Honk! honk! honk! shrieked the little car. The bridge tender had closed one of the two gates on the farther side and was hurrying toward the other. Honk! honk! honk! Then he heard, paused, looked from car to tugboat and, raising a hand, warned them back.

But Tom never hesitated. On rushed the car. The bridge was only a hundred feet away now, and Mr. Fletcher shouting unintelligible words, was working the horn madly. [The bridge tender had half closed the second gate], when he changed his mind and hastily swung it open. There was a roar of planks under flying wheels, a swerve, the sound of a rear hub glancing from the end of the closed gate, and they were over. Behind them a wrathful tender shook his fist in the air!

[THE BRIDGE TENDER HAD HALF CLOSED THE SECOND GATE]

“Three minutes past!” gasped Mr. Fletcher.

But the station was in sight, beside the platform stood the long express. Still honking wildly, Puff dashed through the slow-moving traffic and pulled up with a jerk at the platform. Waving at the engineer, Mr. Fletcher tumbled out.