“He’s looking down as though searching for something,” said Mollie.

“Maybe he’s a track-walker,” suggested Amy.

“No, he isn’t dressed like that,” asserted Betty.  She turned and looked at the man.  He seemed young, and had a clean-shaven face.  He paid no attention to the girls, but walked on, with head bent down.

“We must soon stop for lunch,” proposed Mollie.  “I have not left it behind this time,” and she held out the small suitcase that contained the provisions put up that morning.  “I’m just dying for a cup of chocolate!”

“We will eat soon,” said Betty.  “There’s a nice place, just beyond that trestle,” and she pointed to a railroad bridge that crossed a small but deep stream, the highway passing over it by another and lower structure.

As the girls hurried on, the man passed them, off to the left and high on the railroad embankment.  He gave them not a glance, but hastened on with head bent low.

When he reached the middle of the high railroad bridge, or trestle over the stream, he paused, stooped down and seemed to be tying his shoelace.  The girls watched him idly.

Suddenly the roar of an approaching train was heard.  The man looked up, seemed startled, and then began to run toward the end of the bridge.

It was a long structure and a high one, and, ere he had taken a dozen steps over the ties, the train swept into sight around a curve.  The road was a single-track one, and on the narrow trestle there was no room for a person to avoid the cars.

“He’ll be killed!” cried Mollie.

Fascinated, the girls looked.  On came the thundering train.  The whistle blew shrilly.  The young man increased his pace, but it was easy to see that he could not get off the bridge in time.

Realizing this, he paused.  Coming to the edge of the ties on the bridge, he poised himself for a moment, and with a glance at the approaching locomotive, which was now whistling continuously, the man leaped into the stream below him.

“Oh!” screamed Grace, and then she and the others looked on, almost horrified, as the body shot downward.

[Illustration:  THE MAN LEAPED INTO THE STREAM.]

CHAPTER XXIII

THE MAN’S STORY

There was a great splash, and the man disappeared under the water.  It all occurred suddenly, and the man must have made up his mind quickly that he had not a chance to stay on the trestle when the train passed over it.

“He’ll be killed!” cried Mollie.  “Oh, Betty, what can we do?”

“Nothing, if he really is killed,” answered the practical Little Captain.  “But he jumped like a man who knew how to do it, and how to dive.  The water is deep there.”

“Come on!” cried Amy, for once taking the initiative, and she darted toward the bank of the stream.

“There he is!” cried Betty.  “He’s come up!”