Now the train from Lineville came closer, and the whirr of its approach was audible along the steel rails. The engine’s bell was clanging steadily, too, after the manner of the engines of “specials.”
’Gene Black crowded to the outer edge of the thicket, peering through intently. The bright headlight of an approaching locomotive soon penetrated this part of the forest. Then the train rolled swiftly by.
“Humph!” muttered Black. “Only an engine, a baggage car and one day coach. That kind of train can’t carry much in the way of relief.”
As the train passed out of sight the engine sent back a screeching whistle.
“The engineer is laughing at you, Black,” jeered Tom.
“Let him,” sneered the other. “I have the good fortune to know where the laugh belongs.”
Toot! toot! too-oot-oot! Something else was coming down the track from Lineville. Then it passed the beholders in the thicket—-a full train of engine and seven cars.
“Good old Harry Hazelton!” glowed Tom Reade. “I’ll wager that was Harry’s thought—-a pilot ahead, and then the real train!”
“Small good it will do,” laughed ’Gene Black disagreeably.
Then, a new thought striking him, he added: