“The agent there has probably been warned to be on the lookout for me,” he reasoned. “My dress-suit case seems to be the most conspicuous part of my make-up. I’ll just leave it outside when I go in to buy a ticket.”
He was glad he did so, for, when he asked for passage to Rudford, the agent, rousing himself from his nap, looked out of the little brass-barred window at the boy in front of him. Very evidently he was looking to see if Jack carried a suit case.
“No baggage?” he remarked, in questioning accents.
“Not so’s you could notice it,” replied Jack, making use of a bit of slang that served his purpose well, without compelling him to make a direct statement.
He went outside, got his case, and remained in the shadow of the depot shed until the train came along.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SIDE-DOOR PULLMAN
Jack fancied that the conductor, when he took up his ticket, looked suspiciously at him, but probably this was only the result of his imagination. At any rate, the runaway was glad when the train stopped at Rudford, and he could get out.
It was early morning, and rather cool, in spite of the fact that it was the last of June.
“A cup of coffee and some rolls for mine,” thought Jack, as he saw a small refreshment stand in the station.
The food tasted good to him, and he decided it was wiser to spend a little of his money for it than to draw on the supply of cold victuals in his pocket.