The Automobile Girls at Chicago: or, Winning Out Against Heavy Odds. Crane Laura Dent
had not had time to think of what was occurring outside. But now she began vaguely to realize that the Pullman car had left the rails. An accident had occurred. Shouts and cries of alarm from various parts of the car testified to the terror of other passengers who were being buffeted about by the rocking sleeper. All at once the forward end of the car appeared to plunge down head first, as it were. The two girls were tumbled into one end of their berth where for a few agonizing seconds both were nearly standing on their heads.
Mollie screamed again.
"Don't!" commanded Barbara sharply in a half-smothered voice, holding her sister even more tightly than before.
"We're going over!" cried Mollie.
Barbara had managed to straighten out and was now bracing herself with all her might. She had thus far made no effort to get out into the aisle. She was a girl quick to think and act in an emergency. She had reasoned that they would be safer in their berth than out of it, for they could not be buffeted about so much in the narrow berth as they might be in the aisle where they could hear the thud of bags and other articles falling from the various berths or being hurled from one side to the other of the car.
The lights suddenly went out. Fortunately the train had not been moving very fast when the accident occurred. Now it gave a sudden, sickening lurch and lay over on its side to the accompaniment of crashing glass as the windows were burst in and renewed cries of fear came from the passengers.
The broad windows of the Thurston girls' berth burst in, sending a shower of glass over them. Both received bruises as well as slight cuts from the broken glass that had showered over them, though Barbara had borne the brunt of the shock, managing to keep her own body between Mollie and danger.
"Are we killed? Are we killed?" moaned Mollie.
"No. We are all right," soothed Bab with a confidence that she did not feel. "Quick! Get on your clothes if you can find them. Here, put this on. Don't try to dress completely, but just throw about you whatever you can find."
While urging her sister to action, Bab was hunting feverishly for their belongings. She thrust the first clothing she could find into the hands of the trembling Mollie, then wrapped the younger girl in a blanket.
"I want my shoes," cried Mollie.
Barbara thrust two shoes into the girl's hands. One was Mollie's shoe, the other Barbara's, but she could not be particular under the circumstances.
Now a new danger threatened. Bab was certain that she could smell smoke. She fairly dragged Mollie from the berth into the aisle that was now tilted at an angle.
"Hurry! Get to the upper end of the car as fast as you can. The other passengers are out I do believe."
"Oh, I can't! Help me, Bab."
"Help yourself. I must look after Grace."
"Grace!" groaned Mollie, a sudden and new fit of trembling seizing upon her until her legs threatened to collapse under her.
Barbara gave her a violent push.
"Climb up the aisle. Support yourself by the seats. You will be able to get through all right. I'll follow you just as soon as I can find Grace. She may have gotten out, but I don't believe she has."
"Is – is – do you think she is dead?" gasped Mollie.
"Hurry!" urged Barbara, as the smell of smoke smote her nostrils more strongly than before. "Grace!" she called, as soon as she saw that Mollie had begun climbing.
There was no answer. Barbara was hurrying into such of her clothing as she was able to find. The intense darkness of the car made any systematic effort to dress impossible.
"Grace! Oh, Grace!"
Still no answer. Bab observed by the light that now filtered through the broken windows of section number thirteen on the opposite side of the aisle, that that section was empty. The car itself appeared to be empty. At least the cries had died out, though outside the car there was a great uproar. Barbara climbed into the upper berth occupied by Grace Carter, who lay silent, unheeding Barbara's voice.
"Oh, Grace! Grace!" begged Barbara, throwing her arms about her friend. "Answer me."
There was no response. A bar of moonlight shone through the broken window of section number thirteen, falling directly on the pallid face of the unconscious girl. Barbara shook her, calling upon her friend to answer, but Grace neither spoke nor stirred.
"Is there any one left in here?" called a voice from the other end of the car.
"Yes, yes; come here quickly and help me," cried Barbara.
Instead of coming to her assistance, the owner of the voice appeared to turn back and go out again. Barbara was now chafing the hands and face of the motionless girl in the upper berth.
"Oh, she's dead, she's dead. What shall I do?" gasped Bab.
With a suddenly formed resolution, she clasped her arms about Grace and with considerable difficulty – for Grace was now a dead weight – dragged the unconscious girl from her berth into the aisle. Bab did not pause for an instant. Handling her friend as tenderly as possible, she began working her way up the steep aisle, making but slow progress, one arm about Grace Carter, the other pulling herself and her heavy burden along by grasping the backs of the seats and the partitions between such of the berths as were made up.
CHAPTER II
THE MISSING PASSENGER
AN endless corridor it seemed to Barbara Thurston as little by little she dragged her drooping burden to the end of the aisle. Reaching the narrow passage that led past the staterooms, she was obliged to creep on hands and knees along the slippery lower side of the car.
Suddenly she heard a groan.
Bab glanced apprehensively at the curtains that hung over the door of the smoking room. The curtains now stood out at a sharp angle. A thin cloud of smoke filtered out from the smoking compartment.
"Oh, there's some one in there," exclaimed the girl. But she had other work to do just then. The young woman struggled on, at last reaching the platform that now stood in the air some feet above the track.
"Jump! We'll catch you," called a voice.
"I – I can't. Help me. My companion is hurt."
"She's got someone with her. Get up there," commanded a sharp voice.
Two trainmen clambered to the platform.
"Is the girl dead?" demanded one.
"I don't know. Oh, please hurry," begged Barbara in an agonized tone.
The men quickly lifted down Grace Carter's limp form. Then they turned to assist Barbara, but she already had swung down without assistance. Mollie was kneeling beside Grace, other passengers crowding about the unconscious girl who lay stretched out on the ground beside the track. Someone pushed through the crowd to Grace and thrust a bottle of smelling salts under her nose.
This served to restore her to consciousness, and she feebly brushed the bottle aside.
"She's alive," screamed Mollie, almost beside herself.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Barbara in an ecstacy of joy.
Grace Carter sat up dazedly.
"Are you hurt, dear?" urged Bab.
"I – I don't know. I think not. Oh, it was awful. I – I thought the world surely was coming to an end. Was anyone – anyone killed?"
"No," answered a voice from the crowd. "Some of us got a fine shaking up, but the train was running so slowly that the shock of the accident was not very severe."
"What was the matter?" asked Grace as Barbara assisted the trembling girl to her feet.
"The trainmen say it was a loose rail. They've been putting in new rails at this point and the train was running slowly on that account, the work not yet being entirely finished."
At this juncture the conductor came bustling up, ordering the passengers to go to the cars ahead, which had not left the track. The train was to move on in a few minutes. A flagman had been stationed some