"Who?" asked Ben, in surprise.
"That young woman with the grey eyes."
Ben looked his amazement:
"Tom," he at last said, "who are you?"
"I'm myself," replied Tom. "There's no mystery about me, partner. That party is going to St. Louis, and I happened to overhear them say so in Jersey City. Perhaps you may meet them there; and," he added in a lower tone that Ben did not hear, "perhaps I may."
CHAPTER VII.
THE PULLMAN BOX CAR.
While loafing about the depot, waiting for another Philadelphia train, a string of empty coal flats and gondolas drew slowly past on another track. Tom's quick, practical and professional eye immediately noticed them, and also the brand on the cars telling the road they belonged to.
"Hurrah!" said he, "we've made a close connection! Come on!" and in a short time Ben found himself at the bottom of a black, dusty coal-smeared gondola.
"Bully!" exclaimed Tommy. "Here we are and no one saw us get in, so if we keep quiet and lay low we are not likely to be disturbed."