As George spoke a wagon heavily loaded with trunks rattled off the wharf and turned up the street.
The boys followed it, and by keeping it always in view, were finally led to the railroad depot, which was the place they wanted to find. Their route now lay by rail to Austin, the capital of the state, and thence by stage to the little Spanish town of Palos, which was within a few miles of George’s home.
When the boys entered the depot they found a train all ready to start. The engine was hissing, baggage-men were banging trunks about in the most approved style, and a crowd of people, all anxious to purchase tickets, were gathered about the window of the office. “Pitch in with the rest,” said George. “Push and crowd as hard as you can. It’s our only chance of getting off to-night. But hold on! perhaps you had better give the money to me. I am more experienced in such matters.”
Bob had found it very inconvenient to go to his money-belt every time he wanted a bill, so just before the steamer landed he had transferred all the greenbacks to his pocket-book and thrown the belt overboard. Being quite willing that George should take the responsibility of procuring tickets for them, he thrust his hand into his pocket, and to his intense amazement and alarm found it empty. He felt in the other, but there was nothing there either. Then he examined his clothes everywhere, but nothing in the shape of a pocket-book could be found. All this while George stood holding out his hand, and looking first at the crowd about the window, and then at the train, as if mentally calculating their chances for getting away on it. Wondering at last why Bob was so long in finding the pocket-book, he turned to look at him, and found that he had backed up to a truck, on which he was sitting with his chin resting on his breast and his hands hanging by his side.
“What’s the matter?” cried George, springing forward. “Are you sick?”
“No; but my money is gone!” was the faint reply.
“Gone!” gasped George.
Bob could only nod his head.
“Why, it can’t be possible. Are you sure of it? Have you looked in all your pockets? Try again.”
The thought that perhaps he might have overlooked the pocket-book infused a little hope and energy into Bob, who sprang to his feet and went through the search again, George lending assistance. But there was nothing to be found. While they were thus engaged the crowd about the window grew smaller and smaller, and finally, just as the last man seized his ticket and started on a run for the cars, the bell rang and the train moved slowly out of the depot, leaving the two boys sitting on the truck and staring blankly at each other.