How was the thing to be accomplished? Walking out on the covered platform, out of sight of the man who was following me, I tried to solve the problem.
Smalleyville was a good ten miles from the misplaced bridge, and in a soaking rain such a distance was too far to walk. Perhaps I might get a carriage to take me to the spot. I supposed the cost would be several dollars, but decided not to stand on that amount.
I had about made up my mind to hunt up a livery stable, when some workingmen rolled up to the station on a hand-car.
"Where are you going?" I inquired of one of them.
"Down to the Foley bridge," was the reply,
"Will you take a passenger?" I went on quickly.
"You'll have to ask the boss."
The boss proved to be a jolly German.
"Vont ter haf a ride, does you!" he laughed.
"I'm not over particular about the ride," I explained. "I've got to get to Chicago as soon as possible, even if I have to walk."