"Two. Can you take them up with us?"
"I'll have 'em up there in half an hour. Just you give me the checks."
"The checks," murmured Steve, a look of uneasiness coming to his face.
"Haven't you got them?" asked Tom anxiously.
Steve nodded. "I've got them all right," he said grimly, "but these are the transfer company's checks. We—we forgot to get new ones at the station!"
"Thunder!" said Tom disgustedly. "Now what'll we do?"
"I'll look after it, gentlemen," said the driver comfortingly. "I'll have the agent telegraph the numbers back and they'll send 'em right along. It'll cost about half a dollar."
"Will we get them to-night?" asked Steve.
"You might. I wouldn't like to promise, though. Anyway, they'll be along first thing in the morning. Thank you, sir. Right this way to the carriage. I'll look after the bags."
"Not mine, you won't," replied Tom grimly, tightening his clasp on it. "I wouldn't trust the President of the United States with this bag. Anyway," he added as he followed Steve and the driver across the platform to a ricketty conveyance, "not if he lived in New York!"