“I think so,” said Jerry, and he explained how he and Ned had started to have fun with Bob, how they had made up their minds to have a lunch, and how Professor Snodgrass had discovered the scorpion amid the bananas. He told what a learned man the scientist was, always on the lookout for specimens. Uriah Snodgrass was, by this time, painlessly preserving his scorpion, and making notes about it, forgetting his desire to eat. Not so Bob, however, who was eagerly waiting for the hot chicken pies.
The excitement soon quieted down, and matters having been satisfactorily explained the ticket agent became very friendly. He told the boys how he had secured the privilege of running the lunch counter at the station, and how his daughter, after the death of her mother, had taken charge of it. By this time the meal was ready, and even the professor sat up and ate.
“But I don’t see why you serve meals so late,” said Jerry, for it was now after ten o’clock.
“Oh, we have to accommodate the passengers of the Denver Express,” explained Miss Harrison, the lunch-girl. “At least they call it an express, though it doesn’t go very fast.”
“And it comes from Denver?” asked Ned.
“No, it goes to Denver,” she said.
“To Denver?” cried Jerry.
“Yes, it’s the last train out of here to-night. It gets to Denver to-morrow noon, when it’s on time, and that isn’t very often. But there are always a lot of travelers who like to stop off here for lunch. The train waits ten minutes for a freight to clear. So I always come back here after supper to serve a little lunch. I won’t have much left, though, if you people come in often,” and with a mischievous look on her face she glanced at Bob.
“A train to Denver!” cried Jerry. “That’s good news. I didn’t know there were any more. I supposed when we lost the Limited we were stranded here for the night. Boys, there’s a chance yet of beating Noddy Nixon!” he cried.