“The railroad’s only a little way over,” said Alf, “and I’m sick of looking at that measly little ditch.”
“Remember the rules, Alf,” cautioned Tom. “No walking on the railroad, you know.”
“Hang the rules! I want to get home!”
“So do I, but not in pieces. I knew a fellow once who was walking on the railroad and a train came up behind him and he didn’t get off and—” Tom paused eloquently.
“And cr-r-rushed him, I suppose,” Dan inquired.
“No, he was on the other track,” answered Tom. “It’s always safer to be on the other track. I shall walk on the other track all the way home.”
“Tom, you’re a perfect idiot to-day,” said Alf disgustedly. “You aren’t nearly as funny as you think you are.”
“And you’re not nearly as grouchy as you think you are,” replied Tom good-naturedly. “Behold, gentlemen and one other, the railroad, passing, as you see, from thither to yon; also back again on the other track. How do we get down there? Jump?”
“No, fall,” said Dan, scrambling down the steep bank. “I want to tell you, though, that I’m going to get out of here before I come in sight of school. Old Toby is daffy about fellows walking on the railroad tracks.”
“Hope we don’t meet him coming the other way,” said Tom. “What would you do if we did, Alf? Just whistle and speed by?”