Clifford leaned forward and spoke into Slim’s ear. “Just keep about this distance from them--they’ll have to stop in Greenport and we can get them before they can go aboard.” Slim nodded. Keeping this quarter of a mile behind, they rushed on into the fog--flashed through Southold--over miles of marsh-bordered road--skirted for a space the single track of the Long Island Railway--skimmed more miles of marsh-bordered roadbed--swung about a curve--and then-- They clutched each other, their horrified eyes staring ahead. “My God!” gasped Clifford; and Mary gave a sharp cry--and a wrenching groan came from Mr. Morton. Instantly and instinctively Slim had shut off the gas and applied the brake--and slowly they rolled onward, staring wildly. That thing which they had seen, happening all in an instant, was a commonplace of newspaper headlines. Long Island is a choice speeding-ground for that tribe known as “joy-riders.” “Look out for Crossings” reads a placard in every passenger-coach of the Long Island Railroad--and the same placard bears a picture of what may befall those who do not. Jack, who had taken ten thousand risks and never had an accident, had risked his fortune just once too often. Driving at reckless speed, his ears filled with the roar of the wind, he had only his eyes--and too late had his eyes seen that freight engine thrust itself out of the fog.... Clifford helped Mary out of their halted car, and silently they all began the work of examination--soon helped by the crew of the train. Jack’s new red car was a tangle of twisted steel.... First they found Nina and Hilton; both were conscious and crying out in their pain--each shrieked when touched. And then they found Peter Loveman: he was alive, but unconscious. Not far from him Mr. Morton picked up a morocco wallet, which he slipped into his pocket, Clifford not seeing this. And then Clifford and Mary found Jack: he also was alive and also unconscious. Strangely enough, his clothes were but little disordered, and there was not a visible scratch upon him. Lying with his pallid face toward the sky, the hair falling back from his forehead, he looked handsome and boyish and irresistibly likable and endowed with qualities which go to make an unusual man. Never to Clifford had that face looked so promising as it now looked. There is a good little hospital in Greenport, and in half an hour the four were in it--and in less than another half-hour two famous New York specialists were in attendance, for many New York doctors have summer homes near Greenport, and are professionally connected with this little hospital. The first report of these two men, based on a hasty examination, was that Nina and Hilton had many broken bones, but would undoubtedly in time be as sound as ever; as to Jack and Loveman, a more careful examination was necessary before they could really tell anything.