Finally, we came to a gate, and as I did not dare leave the car lest it stall--we were on an incline which tipped the car back and made cranking difficult--I asked Ruth to get out and open the gate. I saw that just beyond there was a place where, with great care the car might be turned, but where the chances of stalling were great. Still, I thought, if I could keep the car going I might manage it. I called to Ruth not to get in and began slowly to turn. The road was just the width of the wheels, with a bog on each side. Looking up I saw a huge dog lying in the way. It was as ugly a looking brute as one would wish to see, even if it was chained. I blew the horn. It did not stir. Then, to my horror, I saw Ruth, who is more afraid of a dog than I am of a cat, which is saying a good deal, seize the brute by the tail and begin to drag it out of the way! I turned sick with terror, and, under the nervous strain, did what I have not done since I was in college--_swore_. "Damnation," I cried, "turn that dog loose!" And Ruth, equally excited, answered in a fine frenzy: "I would pull him if he were a mad bull!" Fortunately, the dog made no resistance, and the car was safely turned. Had it stalled, I do not know what I should have done, for I was "all in." One would have thought this was enough for one day, but worse was yet to come. About an hour later we came to a railway crossing. All the level crossings are not on Long Island! There are several in Ireland! This one was kept by a woman, with, I think, the saddest face I ever saw. She opened the gate and thanked me for the six-pence I handed her, but neither smiled nor spoke. We passed onto the track and, probably because I was so tired and was driving carelessly, we stalled. I was about to get out to crank when the woman appeared at my side, and said, so quietly that Ruth could not hear: "It would maybe be better if the lady got out. The Dublin express is due round the curve at any minute!" Could anything have been more considerate? Had she screamed, I fear I should have been so unnerved that we should have been lost. At that moment the engine of the approaching train gave a shriek and I could feel the rails vibrate. My blood turned to water. We were pinned under the hood, and escape seemed impossible. Almost without knowing what I was doing, I stamped on the pedal of the self-starter, and--I say it reverently--by the mercy of God it caught, and we slid off the track as the express thundered by! The rushing wind nearly blew us out of the motor. There could not have been a yard between us and the train. I looked at Ruth. She was as pale as death, but spoke no word. You may be sure I did not forget a thank-offering to the poor gatekeeper, who was white with terror. As we went on our way I said to myself: "If ever we reach an inn in safety, I will give the car away. The impudent driver who said he wondered Ruth would risk her life with me was right."