You've done mischief enough for one day. _Look ahead there!_"

Jumping Christopher! There, about a hundred feet in front of us was a
road crossing the tracks and a little further, beyond the road, was some
water. I guess it was an arm of the lake. Anyway, the tracks ran right
downhill to the very edge of it. The car was going too fast for us to
jump off now.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD

Nearer and nearer we rolled, all the while yanking for dear life on the
wheel. All of a sudden I had a thought.

"Run through to the back platform and if the wheel there is loose,
tighten up that one, too. Quick!" I said.

Connie and Westy ran pell-mell through the car and I heard the jangling
of the chain there and I could hear Connie say, "Quick! Pull
hard--_harder_!"

Then, after a few seconds the car began slowing down.

"Pull with all your might," I said to the fellows with me; "you fellows,
too," I called out; "she's letting up; pull--_hard_!"

The car kept slowing down.

"_Yank! Hard!_" Connie called through to us, "and hold on. Brace your
feet."

The car moved slower, slower; then stopped.

"Kick the ratchet-pin in--hurry up!" somebody said, and I pushed it into
place with my foot.

"All right, let go."

The car was standing right square across the road, but anyway, that was
better than being in the water. Any port in a storm, hey?

I guess our nerves were all pretty much unstrung, anyway, I know my
hands were good and sore.

"I thought we were goners," Westy said; "this is a nice place to stop.
It's good they don't have any traffic cops here."

"I should worry where we stop," I said; "it's better than the lake. We
stopped here because we stopped here. I never knew that Brewster's
Centre had so much pep in it. This old station will go up in the air
next. What do you say we get an anchor?"

"Where are we?" Pee-wee piped up.

"We're _here_, that's all I can tell you," I said.

"If you want to know where _here_ is, look in the geography."

"We're neither here nor there," Westy said; "look at my hands, they're
all blisters."

"Where do we go from here?" Connie wanted to know.

"I guess we take a southwesterly course and flow into the sink," I told
him.

"Brewster's Centre ran away from home," Wig said. "Lost, strayed or
stolen. We don't know where we are; we're in the middle of the road.
Just like we said before, we're here, because we're here."

We all sat down on the steps of the