“Drive to the station,” Mr. Parker instructed Salt. “There’s an outside chance Webb went there.”
The depot was a drab little red building, deserted except for a sleepy-eyed station agent who told them there was no passenger train scheduled to leave Newhall before six o’clock the next morning.
“Any freight trains?” Mr. Parker inquired.
“A couple are overdue,” the agent said. “No. 32 from the east, and No. 20, also westbound. No. 20’s just coming into the block.”
Although it seemed unlikely Webb would take a freight train out of town, Mr. Parker, Salt and Penny, decided to wait for it to come in. They went outside, standing in the shadow of the station.
“No sign of anyone around,” Salt declared, looking carefully about. “We may as well go back to the lake.”
“Let’s wait,” Penny urged.
No. 20 rumbled into the station, stirring up a whirlwind of dust and cinders. A trainman with a lantern over his arm, came into the station to get his orders from the agent. He chatted a moment, then went out again, swinging aboard one of the cars. A moment later, the train began to move.
“Shall we go?” Mr. Parker said impatiently.
Penny buttoned her coat as she stepped beyond the protection of the building, for the night air was cold and penetrated her thin clothing. Treading along behind her father and Salt to the car, she started to climb in, when her attention riveted upon a lone figure some distance from the railroad station. A man, who resembled Webb Nelson in build, had emerged from behind a tool shed, and stood close to the tracks watching the slowly moving freight.