“Satisfied?” asked the railroad man as the boy returned the telegram to him.
“Perfectly.”
“It is surely very kind of Mr. Grey,” added Ted.
“The railroad always makes it its first business to care for its passengers,” replied the conductor, with the glibness of his kind. “We regret the occurrence very much, and if you think you would feel safer to have the twenty-five dollars in your pocket, why—”
“Chikau! Chikau!” called the brakeman interrupting, and with another hasty refusal of the proffered aid, the young homesteaders quickly gathered together their belongings, bade hurried good-byes to their travelling companions, and left the car.
As they reached the platform, they were joined by the conductor, who growled:
“Confound that agent, he is never here when he’s wanted. Just take this telegram and show it to him. Good-bye and good luck!” And waving his hand, the railroad man swung aboard the train, leaving the boys standing on the platform, alone in the wilderness save for their luggage.
In silence, Phil and Ted watched the train depart and, when they could no longer see it, turned to survey their surroundings.
Not a soul was to be seen, not even a house.
“Wonder where the town is,” exclaimed Ted, his voice a bit tremulous.