any sign of those boys."

He was now quite willing to share responsibility. But there
was no sign of the Yale men, and, unattended, the Scarlet Car
crept warily forward. Ahead of it, across the little
reed-grown inlet, stretched their road of escape, a long
wooden bridge, lying white in the moonlight.

"I don't see a soul," whispered Miss Forbes.

"Anybody at that draw?" asked Winthrop. Unconsciously his
voice also had sunk to a whisper.

"No," returned Fred. "I think the man that tends the draw
goes home at night; there is no light there."

"Well then," said Winthrop, with an anxious sigh, "we've got
to make a dash for it."

The car shot forward, and, as it leaped lightly upon the
bridge, there was a rapid rumble of creaking boards.

Between it and the highway to New York lay only two hundred
yards of track, straight and empty.

In his excitement the chauffeur rose from the rear seat.

"They'll never catch us now," he muttered. "They'll never
catch us!"