“Let’s get out here and stretch our legs,” suggested Ned, when they reached the junction of the Great Northern line with the Great Falls and Canada Railroad.
“Yes, we haven’t far to travel now,” observed Mr. Brill. “We’ve been in Montana for some time. We’re not far from the Canadian border, and in a little while we’ll be at the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. From here it’s only about seventy-five miles to Kabspell, but the grades are rather steep. We won’t make very good time.”
“I only hope our airship is there,” said Jerry. “Once we get that together, and in working order, we’ll be independent of grades and railroads.”
As their train was to stop some little time they walked about to vary the monotony of riding in the cars. The professor, of course, no sooner found himself on “terra-cotta,” as Bob expressed it, than he began hunting for specimens.
As the boys entered the station, to look about, they saw sitting in the corner a roughly dressed man, evidently a miner. He had a scar on his face. And Jerry, who was always on the lookout for anyone who might be regarded as an enemy, saw the fellow start as he caught a glimpse of Harvey Brill.
Without seeming to do so, the tall lad whispered to the prospector, calling his attention to the suspicious character, and asking Mr. Brill if he had ever seen him before.
Stealing a casual glance at the stranger, Mr. Brill whispered back:
“Never saw him before, so far as I know. If he’s one of the grub-stakers I don’t know him.”
“Maybe I’m mistaken,” agreed Jerry; “but he seemed some excited when he first got a glimpse of you. I guess it’s all right, though. Anyhow, I hope so.”