For that was what is was. On most trains there is a red cord, in addition to the one that communicates with an air whistle in the engineer’s cab. The pulling of this red cord automatically sets the air brakes, and, in supporting himself under the “hood,” or overhanging part of the vestibule of the coach, the professor had, by accident, pulled this cord. Of course the brakes went on quickly, and confusion resulted.
But no great harm was done, save to delay the train somewhat, and when the cause was explained no one blamed the innocent and absent-minded scientist. As for himself, he thought no more of the occurrence, being so busy putting the jumping moth in a box, and making notes concerning his prize. Then he began reading something about the luminous snakes from a book he carried.
Another day’s travel, during which they ate on the train, sleeping at night in comfortable berths, brought them to where they changed to the Great Northern Railroad.
“And now we’re beginning the last stage of our trip,” explained Jerry, who had been studying the route and timetables. “We’ll soon be in Kabspell.”
“And nothing has happened—that is, nothing much,” said Ned.
“The meals were pretty good,” observed Bob, patting the region beneath his belt.
“Say, is that all you think of?” demanded Ned. “I meant that nothing troublesome had happened. We haven’t been followed, and no suspicious characters seem to be spying on us.”
“Not since I got rid of that distant aunt of mine,” added Mr. Brill, with a sigh of relief. “Say, if she ever finds out I’ve got money I’ll never have any peace. She’ll tell all the rest of my poor relations, who seem to dislike work, and it will be all up with me. So, even if we find the sixty—I mean what we are after,” he hurriedly corrected himself, “don’t let on that any of it is mine—at least not while she’s around,” and he glanced nervously about as though fearful that the stout lady might somehow have followed him. But she was not present.
The journey on the Great Northern was pleasant traveling, and the boys went through a wonderful bit of country. It seemed that their journey was to be almost an uneventful one until, near the very end of it, something occurred that set them all on edge, and made the two Westerners very uneasy.
In accordance with their plan, Professor Snodgrass was spoken of as the ostensible head of the expedition, and to all who engaged our friends in conversation the impression was given that the capture of some rare snakes, as well as other specimens, was the object. The professor’s character naturally bore out this, especially after his stopping of the train.