“Probably have to wait for a train from Grand Rapids,” Tallow said.
Mark got up and looked down the track. “G-g-guess they can crowd us in th-them.”
Just then the good-natured man who helped us out of the wreck came along, grinning like he’d found a quarter on the sidewalk.
“Hello!” says he. “Any the worse for wear?”
“No,” says Plunk.
“Camping?” says he.
“Sort of,” says I. “Goin’ to stay at my uncle’s cabin.”
“Whereabouts?” he asked.
“We git off at Baldwin,” I told him.
“Good fishing?” he wanted to know.