[CHAPTER XII]
THE END OF THE RAILROAD
Frank found Mr. Mackworth and Sam Skinner at the dimly lit depot in consultation with the night telegraph operator. Rexford being a town of a thousand or more inhabitants and a railroad junction point with many switch tracks, freight cars and railway buildings, the escape of the thief was not difficult. As the sloping sides of the mountains reached down to the town on two sides, there were avenues for successful flight over the rough and dark trails. Therefore, further pursuit was abandoned.
“Anyway,” remarked Mr. Mackworth, “we haven’t lost anything. And if we could catch the man we wouldn’t care to stay to prosecute him.”
“Why, what’s the matter, Frank?” he exclaimed as he caught sight of the boy’s pale face and saw him tremble.
“I guess it’s where he kicked me,” explained Frank trying to make light of his injury.
Instantly Mr. Mackworth had Frank’s coat and shirt off. On his chest near the left shoulder was a dull red mark, something like a shoe heel in shape and rapidly turning black.
“Why didn’t you tell me of this?” exclaimed Frank’s uncle with concern. “Does it hurt you?”
“Not much,” answered the boy, “except when I touch it.”