“What do you mean?”
“I guess you can see what I mean all right,” said Wilkins. “I'd rather let you be responsible for any kidnapping.”
He did not wait for a reply, but hurried into the thicket, and nodding to one of the men who still held Harvey he said in a low tone:—
“You're wanted out there. Your partners can hold this chap all right.” Then with a gesture motioning Smith to follow, he felt his way through the woods and down the side of the cut to the track.
Once out of the shadow of the trees he could see plainly enough, for dawn was breaking fast. The rear end of his train was in sight, about a hundred yards up the track; the head of it was hidden by the curve. From the cut he could hear derisive shouts and cat-calls, but from his own train not a sound. Puzzled and a little alarmed, he broke into a run. He passed the rear cars and came around the curve in sight of the men in the cut.
“Get back there, you damned robber!” shouted one of them, and the command was followed by a shot.
The bullet went high over Wilkins's head, but it had its effect none the less. He sprang up the steps of the nearest car and threw himself against the door. It resisted his efforts, however, and from inside the car came another warning, for a gruff voice said:—
“Quit that, if you don't want to be blown full of holes.”
Wilkins stepped out of line of the door before he answered:—
“Let me in, you fool. It's me, Wilkins.”