"Nonsense! Your ticket took at the last station. More o' your gammon, like enough. Find that ticket or pay for the journey from Port Andrew—seven-and-nine! And look something slippy, too! I can't keep my train waiting all day on the like of you, and the express due in twenty minutes."
Cleg could not catch the answer of the military man. But the guard's reply was clear.
"I don't care if ye were the Prince of Wales. Pay up, or I'll give ye in charge!"
The train started down to the main platform. And Cleg had the door open before the commercials in the corner were more than half awake. He slipped out, and ran down the platform instead of up. At the corner stood James Cannon's signal box, by the side of a white bridge. Cleg swarmed up the pole at the corner, set a foot lightly on the white painted palings, and dropped like a cat upon the road.
He was a modest boy, and did not desire to give any trouble.
He thought of the military man with joy in his heart.
"Now I guess we're about quits!" he said.