But Joe was a good sprinter, and, though he was rather stiff from his uncomfortable bed, he was more than a match for the yard-master. Seeing that the “tramp,” as he supposed him to be, was distancing him, the man caught up an iron coupling pin and threw it at Joe.
If it had hit the youth it might have hurt him badly, but the yard-master’s aim was no better than his running, and Joe was soon safely out of his reach. There came a break in the line of freight cars, and Joe slipped through this, thus getting out of sight.
“And I’d better stop running, I reckon,” he thought, “or some other trainman may think it suspicious to see me in such a hurry.”
He slowed down to a walk, and presently emerged from the yard into a street.
“Will you kindly direct me to a hotel?” asked Joe of the first man he met. “I’m a stranger in town. I don’t want an expensive place.”
“There’s the Railroad House, just down at the foot of this street,” the man said, looking at Joe curiously. “I can’t recommend it, though it’s cheap enough. Then there’s the Boswell, three blocks up that way and two over,” and he indicated the directions. “I stop there myself. It’s good and not expensive.”
“Thank you,” Joe said. “I’ll try that.”
“Just get in?” asked the man, and he smiled.
“Yes,” answered the young magician. “My special car was just switched off for me!” and he laughed as he turned away.
He found the Boswell to be just about the kind of hotel that came within his limited means. He did not want to engage a room until after he had seen Professor Rosello, and he was not sure where the magician was stopping. But he could easily inquire.