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.