“Mr. Boyce,” said Markham, “will you do me a favor?”
“Sure, will I,” cried the flagman. “We’re a whole family of friends to you, boy.”
“All right. Have you got a piece of chalk—the kind they use for marking on the cars?”
“Dozens of it. Here’s a handful, my hearty,” and the flagman darted into the little shanty and out again with a fistful of great chunks of chalk.
“All right,” said Markham, selecting a piece. “Now then, do you see that man coming down the track?”
“Yes,” nodded the flagman.
“He will ask you about the out freights, maybe about some particular car. It’s the car holding Frank Newton’s furniture that he’s after—their household goods they’re shipping to Pleasantville.”
“Aha,” nodded Boyce.
“I will be in sight,” went on Markham, rapidly. “Point me out to him. Say I can tell him, will you?”