“You acted just as I should under the circumstances,” Clay hastened to say, seeing that the conductor was inclined to be friendly and wishing to remain in his good graces. “Now, what shall I pay you for the extra fare to Donald? We don’t want to beat the road out of a cent.”
“The coffee pays for that,” smiled the conductor.
“Let us know if you find the men who jumped the train at the pass,” Clay then said. “This boy thinks there are two groups of men back there, at the pass, you know, and is inclined, from appearances, to be afraid of one of them.”
The stranger turned frightened eyes toward Clay for only an instant and then faced away again. The conductor saw the look and asked:
“What is this lad’s name, and where does he come from?”
“Comes from Chicago,” answered Clay. “We haven’t learned his name as yet. We have been together only a short time, you know.”
“What is it, boy?” asked the trainman, not at all unkindly. “We are sometimes asked to look out for kids who have run away from home to see the world,” he added, turning to Clay, “and so I’ll just make a note of this one’s name and address. Likely looking lad, eh?” he added.
“My name is Granville,” the boy answered, “Chester W. Granville, and I lived in Chicago, in Peck court.”
“Humph,” the conductor remarked. “Not a very aristocratic place.”
“No, sir,” responded the boy, turning away again. “Ever frequent the South Branch?” asked Clay, with a quiet smile.