“Aw, I could lick them all with one hand!” snarled the youth, his eyes resting fearlessly on first one and then another of the men.
He was able to control his temper, however, and as the Colombians made no further move, he turned to Karl Sutman.
“Why can’t I make that train trip?” he asked. “I’ll pay my own fare. Really I’ll enjoy it.”
“All right,” came from Mr. Wallace. “And I’ll go with you. It will take two to carry the gas can when it’s full.”
“Be careful,” warned Mr. Holton. “We won’t be surprised if you’re gone a day or two.”
At the railroad station, which was little more than a mud hut, they found that a train would arrive in less than three hours. They thought it best to remain near the depot, for the schedule might not be accurate.
The train finally came, but, much to their disgust, the two gas seekers were informed by the conductor that they would arrive in Cartagena no sooner than four hours later.
At last they started moving and slowly left the station behind. The little crowd that had assembled to see the train off waved a farewell as it disappeared around a curve.
Bob and the naturalist gazed intently out of the window at the barren country they were passing through. Only at intervals could they make out an adobe house.
They had gone perhaps an hour when they were startled by a sudden commotion at the head of the train. Bob was looking out of the window trying to make out what was going on when he suddenly felt the train come to an abrupt stop.