“You hope so!” cried Langridge. “Well, I should say yes. Why don’t you know?”
“Well, you see, I’m new on this section of the line. To-day is my first run. I took the turn back there where the gentleman told me to.”
“What gentleman?”
“The one who was out here on the platform with me. He said he was your manager.”
“Manager!” fairly yelled Langridge. “Why, I’m the manager of this team.”
“Can’t help it. That’s what the gentleman said. He said he knew the road to Dodville, and when I got to the switch he told me to come this way.”
“What was his name?” demanded Langridge, who was beginning to “scent a rodent,” as Holly Cross said.
“He gave me his card,” went on the motorman, who had halted his car in the midst of a lonely stretch of woods.
“Let’s see!” cried Sid.
The trolley man fumbled in his pocket for it. Tom looked back, but could not see the other special car. That had probably been some distance behind the first one and had doubtless gone the right road, the motorman not suspecting that his predecessor was not ahead of him.