He sprang upon the toboggan, and, seeing this, Andy and Jack followed. Harry gave the customary push and clung fast, and away they started down the first of the two hills. Whiz went the _Buster_ over the smooth surface, rushing along with a speed that fairly took away their breath. “Talk about cannon-ball speed!” cried Boxy. “A cannon-ball couldn’t catch us!” “Hark!” cried Jack. “What was that whistle?” “It’s a train on the railroad,” replied Harry. “It’s the extra Saturday night express! I forgot all about it,” he went on, with a little gasp. “We’ll have to turn off at the tracks,” put in Andy, nervously. “If we can,” said Jack. “We are going so fast that perhaps it can’t be done.” “We must do it!” cried Boxy, in alarm. “Yes! yes! we must!” It was easy enough to say they must, but how could they? The toboggan was rushing on faster than ever. Over the brow of the second hill it went, and down the slope toward the tracks. Jack tried to steer to the side, and so did the others, but all in vain. And now they saw the train rounding the side of the hill, and coming on at full speed, the bell ringing and the whistle blowing to warn everybody off the tracks. Jack, who was in front, made another desperate effort to change their course. It was useless. Andy, who was next to him, tried to scream out, but the sound stuck in his throat. It looked as if all four of the boys were going to certain destruction. [Illustration: “Jump for your lives!” See page 53.] CHAPTER VII. BY A HAIR’S BREADTH. Harry, who half stood up on the end of the flying toboggan, was the only member of the Zero Club who retained his presence of mind. He saw at a glance that they and the oncoming express train must reach the crossing at about the same time, and in that case the grim locomotive and heavy cars would deal to them certain death. “Jump for your lives!” he cried out, hoarsely. “Jump, every one of you!” His tone was so decisive that the other three acted on it almost mechanically. Jack, who was in front, leaped first, and after him came all the others in a heap. Over and over they rolled, each trying to shield himself as much as he could by the overcoat he wore. Jack went down to the bottom of the hill on his head, and poor Andy came over him, striking his forehead on a railroad tie, the blow rendering him unconscious. Boxy slid along on his chest to one side, and crashed into a mass of brush with such force that his clothing was torn to ribbons, and his face and hands were scratched in a dozen places. Harry struck on his back, and turned half-a-dozen different ways before he could stop himself. When finally he did come to a halt, it was within two feet of the railroad tracks.