By this time the men in the car had, one by one, been shaken awake by the car's terrific pace, and one by one they tumbled from their berths, quickly raising the curtains for a look outside.

What they saw was a driving storm and the landscape slipping past them at a higher speed than they ever had known before. Three of the men bolted to the front platform.

"What's the matter? Are we running away?" shouted a voice in Phil's car.

"Go back, fellows, and shut the door. Don't bother me.

I'm making the next town."

The men retired to the car, sat down and looked at each other in blank amazement.

"Well, did you ever?" gasped Rosie.

"Never," answered the Missing Link, shaking his head helplessly.

"He'll be the death of us yet."

"At least we'll be going some if we stay on this car."

"We _are_ going some. We've been going some ever since the new Boss took hold of this car. I hope we don't hit anything.

It'll be a year of Sundays for us, if we do."

"A good many years of 'em," muttered Rosie.

"I hear a train whistle!" shouted Billy, leaning toward Phil.

"I heard it," answered the boy calmly, beginning to tug at the brake wheel.

"Want any help?" asked Conley anxiously.

"No; you can't help me any." Phil had ceased twisting the wheel.

"What's the matter?"

"The wheels are slipping. The brakes will not hold them. If we are going to meet anything we might as well meet it properly,"

answered Phil calmly, whereupon he kicked the ratchet loose and spun the brake wheel about.

The car seemed to take a sudden leap forward.

Just then there came a rift in the clouds.

"Look!" cried Billy.

Phil leaned over the rail, peering into the mist.

The track, just a little way ahead of them, took a sudden bend around a high point of land. And on beyond the hill they saw the smoke of an engine belching up into the air like so many explosions.

"I guess that settles it," said the boy. His face was, perhaps, a little more pale than usual, but in no other way did he show any emotion.

"Shall we tell the men to jump, then go over ourselves?"

"No; we should all be killed. We will stay and see it through.

The men are better off inside the car."

A yell from Teddy, sounding faint and far away, caused Billy to lean out and look back.

"Turn on your sand! Turn on your sand! She's slipping!"

howled Teddy.

"We haven't any sand. D'you think this is a trolley car?"

Just then Teddy caught sight of the smoke ahead of them.

He pointed. His voice seemed to fail him all at once.

"It looks as if we would get all the publicity we want in about a minute, Billy," said Phil, smiling easily. "We shall not be likely to know anything about it, though," he added.

Car Three swept around the bend.

"There they are!" cried Conley.

"Coming head on!" commented Phil. He seemed not in the least disturbed, despite the fact that he believed himself to be facing certain death.

Billy let out a yell of joy.

"They are on another track. They are not on these irons at all!"

he shouted.

Phil had observed this at about the same instant. He saw something else, too. The road on which the train was approaching crossed his track at right angles. The other was a double track railroad, and the train was a fast express train, tearing along at high speed.

"We're safe!" breathed Billy, heaving a great sigh of relief.

"No, we are not. We are going to smash right into them, _broadside,_ unless we can check our car enough to clear them."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

Billy groaned. His joy had been short-lived.

"Give Teddy the signal to put on the brakes. We will make another attempt to check her."

Phil threw himself into the task of turning the wheel, which he did in quick, short, spasmodic jerks, rather than by a steady application of the brakes.

The car slackened somewhat--hardly enough to be noticed.

"Tell Teddy to keep it up. You had better send one of the men back to help him."

Billy bellowed his command to the men inside.

"They see us. They are whistling to us."