"What are you going to do?" asked Mark.
"Put on the other brake. They never thought to try this one! Maybe it will work and stop the car!"
Then Mark saw what Jack was up to and went to help him. The shabbily dressed man seemed undecided what to do. He stood up, holding to the straps to prevent himself from being tossed from side to side as the runaway trolley swayed. He watched the boys curiously.
The lads, reaching the rear platform, twisted at the brake handle with all their strength. They could feel that the chain was still intact. But would the shoes grip the wheels with force sufficient to stop the car?
There was a shrill screech as the brakes were applied by the boys. With all their might they turned the handle, winding the chain up tighter and tighter. At last they could not budge it another inch. Then they waited anxiously.
The car never slackened its speed. So great was the momentum that had both sets of brakes been in working order it is doubtful whether they would have stopped the vehicle. The speed was so great now that one of the journals became hot and the oily waste that was packed in it caught fire, making what railroad men term a "hot box".
"I guess we're done for," groaned Mark.
"We certainly haven't checked the speed any," Jack admitted. "But wait a minute."
He began stamping on the floor of the platform.
"What you doing?" cried Mark, for he had to shout to make his voice heard above the roar and rattle of the car.