"What is it, Amy?"
"That man," replied the quiet girl. "He's been following us for some time."
"Following us!" cried Betty. "What do you mean?"
"I mean walking along the railroad track back of us."
"Well, that may not mean he is following us. Probably he wants to get somewhere, and the track is the shortest route."
"He's looking down as though searching for something," said Mollie.
"Maybe he's a track-walker," suggested Amy.
"No, he isn't dressed like that," asserted Betty. She turned and looked at the man. He seemed young, and had a clean-shaven face. He paid no attention to the girls, but walked on, with head bent down.
"We must soon stop for lunch," proposed Mollie. "I have not left it behind this time," and she held out the small suitcase that contained the provisions put up that morning. "I'm just dying for a cup of chocolate!"
"We will eat soon," said Betty. "There's a nice place, just beyond that trestle," and she pointed to a railroad bridge that crossed a small but deep stream, the highway passing over it by another and lower structure.