Forgan bustled about. Through the call boy of the roundhouse Ralph sent word to his mother of the extra trip. Then he worked like a beaver on the locomotive. Trevor watched him in a pleased and admiring way.
They ran the locomotive out on the turn table. Griscom consulted his watch, talked a few moments with Forgan, and said to Ralph:
“Tracks clear in twelve minutes, lad. Just time enough to get a bite at the nearest restaurant.”
When they returned, Trevor stood near the engine glancing all around him in a very animated way.
“Looking for Forgan?” inquired the old engineer.
“Oh, no. I was wondering where a fellow disappeared to who was hanging around the tender a few minutes ago. He and a companion have been following me ever since I arrived.”
“Then they have given up the job,” observed 77 Griscom, glancing keenly about. “Why should they follow you, Mr. Trevor?”
“That I cannot tell. Probably thought I looked prosperous, and were bent on waylaying me. Anyhow, they kept close to me down the tracks from the depot. Ready?”
“In precisely one minute. There is the Dover Accommodation now,” announced the engineer, as a headlight came around a curve. “All right. We’ll have to coal up at the limits. Then we will make you a comfortable seat, Mr. Trevor.”
“Don’t you give yourselves any concern about me,” replied Trevor. “I am used to railroad life.”