While the train was making fast time back to the last station of any size Bob washed his face, bound up his wounds, and sat down to rest. The porter offered him some whiskey, but Bob declined.
“I don’t drink liquor, but if you have any coffee——”
“Yes, sah, right away, sah,” returned the darkey, and just before the train came to a stop the young photographer had a strong cup of coffee, which made him feel like another person.
Word was at once sent to the nearest police station, and presently four officers hurried to the train. Behind them came a form that looked familiar to Bob. It was Frank Landes.
“I was out with the detectives, but I lost your trail in the storm. One of the men thought you had come here. I was at the police station when the order for the men came in. What’s up?”
“They are going to bag the whole crowd,” returned Bob. “Come on, if you want to take part.”
Frank hopped aboard. In a second more they were off. The officers, with Bob, Frank, and the conductor, occupied the express car, so that very few of the passengers on the train knew that anything unusual was going on, although they wondered why the run backward had been made.
The engineer crowded on the steam, and they went spinning along at the rate of sixty miles an hour. On the way all hands talked over the prospects ahead.
Suddenly a whistle was heard and the train slowed up.
“Here we are,” said the conductor. “Gooseneck Falls are not over a hundred yards ahead.”