“Don’t you call this just splendid?” exclaimed Frank, as they rolled along over the crossing, past the bridge, toward the curve, a mile from the station.

“Not bad.  They are yelling like mad after us.  Better go back, if you can,” said Gus, who was anxiously peering out, and, in spite of his efforts to seem at ease, not enjoying the trip a particle.

“Let them yell.  I started to go to the curve, and I’ll do it if it costs me a hundred dollars.  No danger; there’s no train under twenty minutes, I tell you,” and Frank pulled out his watch.  But the sun was in his eyes, and he did not see clearly, or he would have discovered that it was later than he thought.

On they went, and were just rounding the bend when a shrill whistle in front startled both boys, and drove the color out of their cheeks.

“It’s the factory train!” cried Gus, in a husky tone, as he sprang to his feet.

“No; it’s the five-forty on the other road,” answered Frank, with a queer thrill all through him at the thought of what might happen if it was not.  Both looked straight ahead as the last tree glided by, and the long track lay before them, with the freight train slowly coming down.  For an instant, the boys stood as if paralyzed.

“Jump!” said Gus, looking at the steep bank on one side and the river on the other, undecided which to try.

“Sit still!” commanded Frank, collecting his wits, as he gave a warning whistle to retard the on-coming train, while he reversed the engine and went back faster than he came.

A crowd of angry men was waiting for them, and Bill stood at the open switch in a towering passion as No. 11 returned to her place unharmed, but bearing two pale and frightened boys, who stepped slowly and silently down, without a word to say for themselves, while the freight train rumbled by on the main track.

Frank and Gus never had a very clear idea as to what occurred during the next few minutes, but vaguely remembered being well shaken, sworn at, questioned, threatened with direful penalties, and finally ordered off the premises forever by the wrathful depot-master.  Joe was nowhere to be seen, and as the two culprits walked away, trying to go steadily, while their heads spun round, and all the strength seemed to have departed from their legs, Frank said, in an exhausted tone,—­

“Come down to the boat-house and rest a minute.”

Both were glad to get out of sight, and dropped upon the steps red, rumpled, and breathless, after the late exciting scene.  Gus generously forebore to speak, though he felt that he was the least to blame; and Frank, after eating a bit of snow to moisten his dry lips, said, handsomely,—­

“Now, don’t you worry, old man.  I’ll pay the damages, for it was my fault.  Joe will dodge, but I won’t, so make your mind easy.

“We sha’n’t hear the last of this in a hurry,” responded Gus, relieved, yet anxious, as he thought of the reprimand his father would give him.