“Forward, brave comrades!” he shouted.
The brave comrades, tumbling down the steps, cheered enthusiastically, while the occupants of the car in which the quartet had traveled from Long Island City looked wonderingly out upon them. But as the present conduct of the boys was only on a par with what had gone before, the passengers soon settled back into their seats, and the train puffed on its way. Tom Ferris waved gayly to the occupants of the passing windows and then followed the others along the platform. The station was a small one, and save for a farmer who was loading empty milk cans into a wagon far down the track, there was no one in sight.
“Which way do we go?” asked Nelson Tilford.
For answer Bob Hethington produced his “Sectional Road Map of Long Island, Showing the Good Roads, with Description of Scenery, Routes, etc.,” and spread it out against the side of the station.
“Here we are,” he said. “Locust Park. And here’s our road.”
“That’s all right,” answered Nelson, following the other’s finger. “I see the road on your old map, but where is it on the landscape?”
“Why, down there somewhere. It crosses the track just beyond the station.”
“Certainly, but you don’t happen to see it anywhere, do you?” asked Dan.
Bob had to acknowledge that he didn’t.
“Come on; we’ll ask Mr. Farmer down here,” said Tom.