"Now, Ellen," she announced firmly, "you got to brace up. Cryin' won't do you a mite o' good."
"He's following. I know it. He's got a car. He'll get me and take me back and—kill me!"
"He will if you don't do as I say. But not on your life he won't, if you mind your aunt Martha. Firstoff, have you got your money safe an' handy?"
"Yes. Here."
"That's right. See you don't lose it, when I assist you onto the train. There mayn't be much time to spare, but if the brakeman's any good on the catch, I'm up to handin'm a neat throw, an' between us you'll get there!"
"But my ticket——"
"This is no time for thinkin' o' tickets. Let the conductor be glad if, after the train is on its way, you got the price o' one o' them long, floatin' streamer-effec's he carries in his vest-pocket, to amuse 'mself punchin' holes in it."
They sped into Burbank under all the power Sam dared put on.
"Thank God!" sobbed Ellen Hinckley.
But when they reached the station, no train was in sight, the place was virtually deserted.