The result was that he was carried past his stopping place, and the station at which he was set off was a few miles nearer Philadelphia than he had hoped to get. But the brakeman told him that the Quaker City was still fifty miles away.
CHAPTER XX
THE CRISIS
“Fifty miles!”
Rex repeated these words to himself as he stood on the platform of the station and looked after the swiftly vanishing cars.
How soon that train would cover them! It seemed such a simple thing to stay on board and be carried there, so cruel to be left behind simply for the lack of a little more money.
It was still quite early in the morning. People were coming down to take the train to the city. They had all been in their beds and had a good night’s sleep doubtless. They were much better fitted for a long tramp than was he, who had not been to bed at all.
But he must set off at once. He asked the baggage man to tell him the road to Philadelphia.
“Sure, there it is, in front of you,” replied the other, pointing to the gleaming steel rails.
“No, no; I mean the carriage road,” returned Rex.
The man looked surprised, but gave him directions how to find it, and presently Rex was tramping down its dusty length.