Out of the car came a burly brute of a man, who stared about him rapidly.
“Dat’s der ol’ man,” whispered the boy. “If he gits holt of me, there won’t be a hull bone left in me body.”
The man walked up to the conductor and spoke to him.
“Aggh!” said the boy. “Now dey’ll get me sure—der jig is up—dey’ll have der hull gang ertop o’ me!” the voice trailed off into a strangled sob, and then continued in a fierce whisper: “Aggh! If I had me growth, I’d show ’em! I’d show ’em!” and then a burst of hair-raising profanity.
The argument was growing loud between the man, who was urging something, and the conductor, who was declining; others were walking toward the moderate excitement.
Jim wheeled and caught the boy in his arms. “Up you go!” he said, and tossed him on top of the shed. “Lie low behind the wood there, and you are all right.”
Then came the conductor’s voice: “Say, my friend, if you think I’m going to hold my train while you hunt up a lost kid, there’s something in you that don’t work right! Why didn’t you take care of him while you had him? Now you’ve got just four minutes by the watch; either hustle around and hunt, or drop off the train and hunt—what’s that? Now don’t you give me any slack, you black-muzzled tarrier, or I’ll have the fear of God thrown into you too quick. Get out of here now! Get out of my way!”
The man slouched off, and made a hasty search around the station. A woman’s face—scarcely an improvement on the man’s—leaned out of the car window and jeered at the hunter, who cursed her back savagely.