But Peter had shouted for all he was worth, and Bobbie heard
him. She dragged Phyllis along to the manhole. Phyllis, of course,
stumbled over the wires and grazed both her legs. But they dragged
her in, and all three stood in the dark, damp, arched recess while
the train roared louder and louder. It seemed as if it would deafen
them. And, in the distance, they could see its eyes of fire growing
bigger and brighter every instant.
"It IS a dragon--I always knew it was--it takes its own shape in
here, in the dark," shouted Phyllis. But nobody heard her. You see
the train was shouting, too, and its voice was bigger than hers.
And now, with a rush and a roar and a rattle and a long dazzling
flash of lighted carriage windows, a smell of smoke, and blast of
hot air, the train hurtled by, clanging and jangling and echoing in
the vaulted roof of the tunnel. Phyllis and Bobbie clung to each
other. Even Peter caught hold of Bobbie's arm, "in case she should
be frightened," as he explained afterwards.
And now, slowly and gradually, the tail-lights grew smaller and
smaller, and so did the noise, till with one last WHIZ the train got
itself out of the tunnel, and silence settled again on its damp
walls and dripping roof.
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