“Why, this is interesting,” said Ralph.
“Say, can’t you come down and see my layout?” inquired Glen eagerly. “I’d be dreadfully glad.”
“Why, I might,” replied Ralph thoughtfully, consulting his watch.
“There’s our chance, if you will,” said Glen, grabbing the arm of his companion and indicating a short freight train just pulling off from a side switch. “It’s three miles and a half to the farm, and that train goes within a short distance of it.”
They ran for the train. It was composed of empties with a caboose attached. Aboard of this the boys clambered and sat down on the rear platform.
“I come down here for the sweepings every morning,” said Glen. “To-day and one other day in the week there isn’t much to get. One day I got over two bushels and a half, though.”
“That’s pretty fine,” commented Ralph.
“It’s a big item in my feed bill, I can tell you,” declared Glen. “I’ve got a new arrangement in view, too--the grain inspector at Stanley Junction.”
“Yes, I know him,” nodded Ralph.
“Well, my good friend the flagman here introduced him day before yesterday, and he told me that all those little bags containing samples are thrown into a big bin and dumped into the dust heap when they’re past inspection. After this he’s going to have them left in the bin, and I’m going to arrange to have a cartman call once a week and haul the stuff out to the farm.”