But Allan, as he started away at last upon his six-mile tramp, knew not whether to be glad or sorry. If only some one else had passed the engine at that moment instead of him. For, as that crouching figure slunk away through the darkness, he had recognized it!
So he had a battle to fight on that six-mile tramp; but it was fought and won long before the walk was ended. And when, at last, he got back to the yards, instead of turning away toward home, he mounted the stairs to the train-master’s office. That official was busy, as always, with a great pile of correspondence, but he looked up and nodded pleasantly as Allan entered.
“Good morning, West,” he said. “Want to speak to me?”
“Yes, Mr. Schofield,” answered Allan. “This morning, as I was starting out on my trick, I saw a man come out from under Mr. Spurling’s engine.”
The train-master nodded.
“Yes,” he said, “I’ve got a report of it here. I’m mighty glad you happened to come along just when you did, and had your eyes about you.”
“I’d much rather it had been somebody else,” said Allan, “for I knew the man, and I think it’s my duty to tell you.”
The train-master looked at him keenly.
“You knew him?” he repeated. “Better and better. No doubt he’s the one who’s been giving us all this trouble. Who was he?”
Allan gulped down a lump which had arisen suddenly in his throat.