med whip
made Dixie leap ahead.

The pike followed the railroad track for a mile. At the end of the
mile, at a sharp curve, the track crossed the road. There was no
watchman stationed at the crossing to give the signal, not even a red
flag to tell of danger, only a great sign, printed in huge, black
letters: "Look Out for the Locomotive. Stop. Look. Listen."

A hundred times Mr. Butler had warned Eleanor and Madge of this
dangerous point in the road. Almost every day they crossed this track,
driving back and forth from the village and they had always heeded Mr.
Butler's warning.

To-day, just as reckless Madge neared this point in her journey, she
saw a rickety carriage drive over this crossing about a hundred yards
ahead of her.

"Wait, Mrs. Curtis! Stop, Tom!" cried Madge joyfully. Her blue eyes
were shining, her cheeks were flushed. Madge's old-time heedlessness
was upon her. She gave no thought to her promise to her uncle, to the
chance of the oncoming trains. Madge-fashion, she saw only the goal
ahead of her. "Go it, Dixie, darling!" she entreated, touching her pony
sharply with her maple switch.

At the girl's first call Tom Curtis had reined in the old horse he was
driving. His mother leaned out of the carriage to look back. "Madge!"
she cried sharply.

At the same instant Madge plunged recklessly toward the railroad
crossing. It was too late to rein in her pony. She and Dixie dared not
take that risk. She saw a huge monster bearing down upon her. A shriek
from the engine, a hoarse call from the engineer as he swept around the
curve and saw the pretty figure on the track so close to his train.
Madge felt the wave of heat from the locomotive. It seemed almost to
scorch her, it was so near. She felt her fingers stiffen with fear; her
hold on her pony's mane relaxed. She knew she was slipping off her
horse's back and down on the track.

But she was country born and bred. She had ridden horseback all her
life. In that moment of terror she flung herself forward, with both
arms about her pony's neck. Dixie gave a single, frightened leap. She
cleared the track just as the train raced by. Then Madge slid limply to
the ground, while her pony stood by her shivering with fear.

"Don't scold me, and don't tell Uncle," she pleaded as Mrs. Curtis and
Tom climbed hurriedly from the wagon and came back to her. "I know it
was dreadful of me, and Uncle would never have forgiven me if I had
killed myself."

At this cha