“Just like my infernal luck!” Recognizing the voice, I turned, and the speaker clapped me on the shoulder and then seized my hand.
“What, Harper, old fellow! What on earth brings you here?” It was an old Harvard chum, Frank Siegel.
The two officials glanced at us, and moved off as we shook hands.
“Rather; what are you doing?”
“I? Oh, I’m out for the Frisco Eagle—the Screecher. I’ve been round the world for them. Trotting home, and, like my infernal luck, I’ve just missed a scoop in Petersburg.”
“What is it?”
“What is it? By gee, it’s just what I’d have given my ears to get. A big Nihilist raid. No end of arrests; but the biggest birds are flown. May be on this very train.”
“I heard nothing of it, and I came from Petersburg.”
“Are we on the same train? My, that’s bully. Say, I’ll get my traps and join you.”
“I’m not alone, Frank.”