“What are you going to do about the two o’clock car going down?” he asked Duncan, as the chums came together again at twelve o’clock. “There’s sure to be some one on that who would recognize you; it will pass you at the power-house.”
“That’s easy!” answered Duncan, confidently. “I’ll duck down when we pass the cars, going and coming. If you’re trying to scare me out of this, you’re wasting your breath. I’m going, anyway.”
This ended Sam’s attempts at interference. He hung around the room for a while after Duncan had gone, then hunted up Dr. Leighton and asked permission to go to the salt marshes or elsewhere, shooting. Dr. Leighton knew Mr. Archer and believed in the boy. As a result, we may say by way of parenthesis, the boy believed in Dr. Leighton, and, what is more to the point, strove to earn his esteem by honest work for him. Dr. Leighton’s permission was quickly obtained.
Sam boarded the two o’clock car in his shooting togs, without any clear idea as to his purpose. He didn’t care much about shooting that afternoon, and he did want to help Duncan, but how he could help Duncan he had but the vaguest notion. If there were teachers aboard, he might engage them in talk at the critical time, and so divert their attention. Two teachers did get in at the square, Professor Towle and Mr. Snow, both elderly men above the temptation of spying—the fault of overzealous youth—but quite as rigid in their sense of duty as their younger colleagues. If Duncan showed himself, his head was forfeit.
The car bowled rapidly along the desolate, water-soaked highway. Sam left his seat and went forward with the motorman to catch the first glimpse of the waiting car at the turnout. As they bore down upon the power-house, they saw ahead of them a group of workmen gathered about a heavily loaded service car which appeared to have broken down, obstructing both main track and turnout.
“Looks like a block,” observed the motorman, as he crowded down the brake.
“What will they do?” asked Sam, quickly.
“Probably swap passengers with the up car when it comes, and send us back.”
The car came to a stop. The motorman opened the door of his vestibule and leaned out. Sam peered over his shoulder.
“You’ll have to go back, Jim,” said an official to the conductor. “Transfer your passengers.”