“I’m pretty sure they’re tellin’ the truth,” returned the man from Leeville, “because their story holds together. Mr. Higbee, I happen to know, has a nephew who’s a good deal of a black sheep. His name ain’t Tibbits, but it ain’t likely he’d have given his real name while doin’ underhand work like what he was up to. Mr. Higbee, too, left this nephew at the country place to look after it while he an’ his family are abroad.”
“I’ll bank on Motor Matt and Joe McGlory!” declared the conductor, reaching over to slap each of the boys on the shoulder. “If that Leeville constable had known as much as the law allows, he’d have given the lads a chance to tell their side of the story; and for him to refuse to let them send such an important telegram was an outrage. I hope,” the conductor added to Matt, “that the message will be received in time to save the bullion. In order to make sure that it is rushed through, you’d better let me attend to the sending of it myself.”
“That’s mighty kind of you,” said Matt gratefully.
“Don’t mention it, my lad,” the trainman answered. “I’m glad to be able to do something for you.”
“I’m goin’ to Fall River to visit my married daughter,” put in the Leeville man, “an’ when I git back home, I’ll let Hawkins know what I think of his fool way of doing bizness. It’ll cost him his job, next ’lection, you can lay to that.”
“I wouldn’t bear down too hard on him,” counseled Matt. “Hawkins thought he was doing his duty.”
“He’s a false alarm,” growled McGlory, “and he ought to have the pin pulled on him. Maybe I’ve lost a fortune through his foolishness—I don’t know.”
At that juncture the train began to slow down.
“Stoughton!” called the conductor, getting up and making for the rear door of the car.
Matt and McGlory watched the conductor as he crossed the station platform and disappeared inside the telegraph office. He was gone for a couple of minutes, and when he reappeared he signaled for the train to pull out.