“Where are you going to stop her?” asked Willard as Tom slowed up.
“I don’t know. Most any old place, I suppose. I’ll run down by the freight shed and turn around.”
Although the train was not due for fully fifteen minutes the edge of the platform was pretty well occupied by vehicles. Connors, the livery man, was represented by a two-horse hack and a one-horse surrey. Mr. Martin’s big limousine was there, too, and the chauffeur, a smart young Irishman in a whipcord livery, looked curiously at The Ark as it trundled by. A couple of private turn-outs completed the roster. When, having turned the car around, Tom drew up toward the platform again there seemed no place to stop.
“Take it around there,” suggested Jerry, pointing to a short stretch of platform at the further end of the building which was unoccupied. But Tom shook his head.
“That’s where the express wagons back up,” he said. “They’d be mad and put me out. I guess we’ll have to leave her here, Will.”
“They ought to have more platform,” replied Willard. “This is a punk old station, anyway. Look here, Tom, we ought to have a sign or something on the car to let folks know that it’s public. We didn’t think of that.”
“I guess there are lots of things we haven’t thought of,” sighed Tom as he stopped the engine. “You fellows will have to get out when the train comes in. Then, if I don’t catch anyone, you can get back again.”
“Who get out?” demanded Teddy. “Me? I’m riding back. Here’s your old quarter now, if you can’t trust me.”
“I don’t want your quarter. If I don’t get any passengers you can ride back for nothing, but you’ll have to get out now until I see. Folks won’t want to get in here if it’s filled with kids.”
“Kids!” exclaimed Teddy wrathfully. “Gee, I like that! All right, Jerry; pile out. Can I leave my box in here?”