“And I guess you were right, Tommy, my boy. Never say die, though!” And Dan hitched his pack into place, and trudged on. By four, they were still but little more than halfway to Beach Neck, and Bob got his map out.
“Well,” asked Nelson, “is there any sign of civilization around here?”
“Not very near,” answered Bob. “But, say, the railroad strikes the road near here somewhere—just beyond, I guess—and it’s lots nearer than the road we’re on.”
“Nearer what?”
“I mean it’s shorter that way to Beach Neck than it is by the road.”
“Gee! Then let’s take it!”
“Railroads are mighty hard walking, though,” said Tom.
“Can’t be much harder than this sloppy, sandy quagmire,” said Dan. “I move we hit the ties.”
So they did when, as presently happened, the railroad came into sight and ran along the highway in a neighborly fashion for a little way. It was hard walking, as Tom had predicted, especially at first. But after awhile they got into what Dan called “the swing of it,” and it wasn’t so bad. At least, as Bob pointed out, it was a deal drier. But Tom answered that he didn’t see that that counted for much, because his feet were sopping wet already.