“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “I often went over there, for I like to see ships and tugs and launches moving about in the water.”
“And motor boats?” asked Clay, with another quiet smile.
“Of course,” was the reply. “Motor boats best of all.”
The conductor wrote down the name and address in a notebook and got to his feet. Alex punched Case in the ribs and whispered in his ear:
“Funny name and address, I don’t think!”
“Perhaps,” Case whispered back, “but I’ll bet the lad is all right. Anyway, I’ve heard that a lie is only a misstatement of fact to a person entitled to know the truth, and his name and address is no business of the conductor’s. I think the con. is just butting in on us to see what he can find out. I don’t believe there are any such men as he describes on board—if there are, they never got on at the pass.”
“Well, we’ve got another mystery with us!” grinned Alex as the trainmen left, swinging lanterns to light the way. “A strange maverick of a boy and two fierce-looking men! We’re getting all there is in this drama, all right—red fire and all! If the Columbia river trip makes good with the overland journey, we’re in for excitement—and then some. Say, Clay,” he continued, “why did you ask Mr. Chester W. Granville if he ever visited the South Branch in Chicago?” with a wink at the boy.
“Why,” Clay answered, “it seemed to me that I had seen him somewhere before, when I entered the cabin and found him making pancakes. I had an idea, when he said that he lived in Chicago, that I might have seen him there, but the impression is an indistinct one. It seems to be connected with some other matter which I cannot now bring to mind.”
“He ought to remember if he ever saw you before,” suggested Alex.
The boy said nothing, and Case and Clay prepared their bunks for a short sleep. They would reach Donald before daylight, and so would have only a short period of rest. The train was running fast over a roadbed none too smooth, but that did not for a second keep them awake.