"You'll have to hustle, mister, if you're going to get your car forward," Joe advised him.
"This car is the one I——" began the man.
But Joe coolly swung in ahead of him, elbowing the fellow out of the way. The next moment the porter, grinning, reached over with the key and locked the door of the car, which Dawson had closed.
Looking the picture of rage, the man darted swiftly down the platform. The train was now moving too rapidly, however, for the stranger to get aboard, and the last car rolled by him as he stood, baffled, on the platform.
"I—I don't know how to thank you both," faltered the girl.
"I assure you it didn't even put us to any inconvenience," smiled Captain Tom.
"But—oh! I hope you won't meet him in San Francisco," cried the girl, in sudden alarm. "He's dangerous, ugly, vengeful!"
"We've met such men before," laughed Captain Tom, quietly. "And yet——well, we're here."
"But you don't know that man!" shuddered the girl.