"What is it, Stirling—have you found anything?" asked the watchman eagerly, as Bart, after inspecting the roadway, still more narrowly regarded the edges of the platform boards, running his finger over them in a critical way.
"Yes, I have," announced Bart—"that trunk was taken away from here in a wagon."
"How do you know?"
"Look at those fresh wheel tracks," directed Bart, pointing to the road. "They sided a wagon up to the platform, right here. So close, that a wheel or the body of the wagon scraped along the edges of the boards. The paint was fresh. And it was bright red," added Bart.
"You're a good one to guess that out," muttered the watchman. "Why, say—"
McCarthy gave a prodigious start and put his hand up to his head, as if some idea had occurred to him with tremendous force. "You mentioned Lem Wacker. It's funny, but last week Wacker bought a new wagon."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Yes, it was the same one that his scapegrace nephew, Dale Wacker, was caught peddling the stolen pickles in. I saw Lem painting it fresh out in his shop only two days ago. You know I live just beyond him."
"What color?"
"Red."