“Only grazed. If it hadn’t been dark, we should have got him.”
“But how in—”
The chief smiled. “How did I get here?” he said, completing the question. “The train was stalled last night only a dozen or fifteen miles back. The tender of that model of 1865 locomotive they gave us went off the track, and the engine got in the same fix trying to put it on again. When I left, they were waiting for the other train behind to come up and help. They ought to be along any time this morning. Where’s your brother?”
Young Van had turned to look at a group of three or four prisoners, whom two of the posse were guarding.
“Where’s your brother?” Carhart asked again.
“My brother! Oh, back at the tent, I guess.”
The chief gave him a curious glance, for the young engineer was flushing oddly. “Tell him to wait a minute for me, will you? I want to see you both before the work starts.”
Young Van walked over to the headquarters tent and stood a moment at the entrance. His brother, seated at the table, heard him, but did not look up.
“Mr. Carhart is back,” said the young man, finally. “He asked me to tell you to wait for him.”