It was a person whose face and figure had already become quite familiar to him, being no other than the man who had so persistently followed him for the past few days.
"He seems determined not to let me get away," thought the scout; but neither in his face nor manner did he betray any of the disappointment he felt.
He noticed that his pursuer was not alone this time, but was accompanied by another person—an ill-looking man of herculean proportions—with whom he conversed in an earnest, confidential way.
When the train arrived at Jackson, Webster stepped out upon the platform of the depot, and the two agents of the safety committee did the same. The conductor stood near by, and Webster spoke to him in a tone which he meant his shadows to hear, asking:
"How soon will there be a train for Humboldt?"
"In twenty minutes," replied the conductor.
"Do you know anything about the hotels there?" inquired the scout. "I've got to stop two or three days in the town, and it's a strange place to me."
The conductor recommended him to a good house convenient to the depot, and thanking him for the information, Webster turned away. He had spoken in a tone that he knew must have been distinctly heard by his enemies, and he hoped this bit of stratagem would have the desired effect.
He boarded the train for Humboldt, and the brace of shadows promptly followed him, taking seats in the same car.
While the train was speeding on its way, Webster was aroused from a reverie by the voice of a woman saying: