“This will mean a big loss of time,” remarked Joe, as he gazed far down the track at the seemingly endless string of cars. “I’m anxious to——”
“Listen!” commanded Bob, leaning forward wonderingly. “Did you hear anything? There it is again.”
“It’s a muffled cry for help, coming from one of those freight cars.” Joe had opened the door of the sedan.
With a parting word for the driver, the youths left the automobile and ran down the track, straining their ears for a repetition of the cry.
“There it is again!” declared Joe. “Sounds like a young boy. In that third freight car up there.”
Summoning all their strength, the youths ran on until they were opposite the box car. It was easy to keep abreast with the train, moving as slowly as it was.
The door was pushed back about three feet, leaving barely enough room for the youths to clamber up into the car. Their efforts were not in vain, however, and soon they found themselves inside.
“Where are you?” called Joe, glancing about at the scores of boxes and barrels.
“Here!” a faint reply came from a far corner.
At once the youths turned in that direction, searching for a passageway between the many objects that filled the car. At last they were within a few feet of the corner. But it was not possible to penetrate farther, for a large pile of heavy crates barred the way.