"We can't wait, Ben. Come on in your stockings. Carry your boots in your hand. Hurry up! Here she is!"
Thus urged he limped over the rough ground with his boots in his hand.
"Not this side," said Tommy. "Take the other side of the track; they'll see us here. Come, look sharp and get over before the headlight discovers us."
Ben hobbled over the track and both crouched down behind a pile of old rails on the opposite side from the tank. While cowering there the train drew up with a rush, and a roar, and a screeching of brakes, and stopped to fill its own tank.
Scarce had it come to a standstill when three figures glided like shadows from among the cars, and swiftly ran and hid behind the pile of rails where our friends were crouching. One of them observing them asked, in a hoarse whisper:
"Goin' to jump her?"
"Yes," whispered Tom in reply. "What's the show?"
"None at all," returned the other. "She's a loaded train. Every box locked. We've been making it on the drawheads from Newark. That's your only show."
Tom uttered an exclamation of disappointment.
"Ben, can you ride bumpers?"