Here, however, the landscape was barren in the extreme. There was not a house visible.

Bart was in a dilemma, but he decided how he would act. He first ran back to the spot whence he had last viewed the break in the woods.

A glance stirred him up to prompt and decisive action.

Three men were now in view. They were running at their top bent of speed up the road he had taken.

"Lem Wacker and the Tollivers, sure!" murmured Bart. "They know the wagon is up here somewhere, and they will be here in less than half an hour."

Bart's one idea now was to locate some pit or cranny where he could stow the trunk where it could not be readily found.

This done, he would start on foot in the direction of Clyde Station to get a.s.sistance and return before his enemies discovered it.

There were all kinds of holes and heaps around him, but too open and public to his way of thinking. Exploring, he came to the board barrier again, climbed over it, and more critically than before scanned the fifty-foot descent, and what lay at the bottom.

"Why!" said Bart, in some astonishment, "there's a railroad track--"

He leaned over, and scrutinizingly ran his eye along the dull brown stretch of raised rails.

"And a hand car!" shouted the young express agent joyfully.

CHAPTER XXI

A LIMB OF THE LAW

The single track which Bart had discovered lined the bottom of the hill, followed it for a distance, and then running across the valley disappeared in among other hills and the timber.

It was a rickety concern, was unballasted, and looked as if, loosely thrown together, it had never filled its original mission and had been practically abandoned.

"I don't know of any branch of the B. & M. hereabouts," ruminated the young express agent--"certainly none corresponding to this is on the map. It is not in regular use, but that hand car looks as if it was doing service right along."

No one was in sight about the place, yet lying in plain view on the hand car were three or four coats and jumpers and as many dinner pails.

"I have no time to figure it out," breathed Bart quickly. "The first thing to do is to get the trunk down there."

Bart ran back to the wagon. He hurriedly pulled away the gra.s.s covering and then the canvas.

The trunk was revealed. He had his first full glance at it since it had been delivered to him at the express office at Pleasantville, the afternoon previous.

"It's all right," he said with satisfaction, after a critical inspection. "There is the paster I slapped over the front. The trunk could not have been opened without tearing that."

He got a good purchase on a handle and landed the trunk in the road.

Then he dragged it up to the barrier, removed a board, and, perspiring and breathing hard, held it at the sheer edge of the decline and let it slide.

The hand car was a light-running affair, well-greased, in pretty good order, and he could readily observe was in constant use.

Upon it lay the clothing and dinner pails he had noticed from overhead.

They evidently belonged to workmen--but where were they?

"I can hardly wait to find out," declared Bart.

He pushed off the clothing and dinner pails and lifted on the trunk.

Then Bart made a depressing discovery--the hind gearing was locked with a chain running from wheel to wheel.

This was unfortunate. Turning a heap of slate, he came suddenly and with delight upon an open tool box.

It was a regular construction case, and full of shovels, crowbars, pickaxes, sledges and drills. Bart selected a crowbar and his efforts to twist and snap the chain resulted in final success. With a thrill of satisfaction he sprang upon the car. The handles moved easily and responsively to the touch.

A grumbling roar caused him to survey the sky, which had been dull and lowering since noon.

"Storm coming," he murmured--"now for action!"

Bart started up the car. It ran as smooth as a bicycle. He was anxious to get away from the face of the hill, not knowing how near the enemy might be.

They were nearer than he fancied, for a sudden shout rang out, then a chorus of them.

A piece of rock, hurled down from the crest of the hill, struck his wrist, nearly numbing it. Glancing up, Bart saw the two Tollivers and Lem Wacker getting ready to descend.

There was a sharp incline and a short curve not ten feet ahead. Bart let the hand car drive at its own impetus.

"Stop!" yelled Buck Tolliver.

He held some object in his hand. Bart crouched by the side of the pumping standard, and the hand car spun out on the tracks crossing the valley, just as the thunder-storm broke forth in all its fury.

Bart's back was to the wind, and the wind helped his progress. As the tracks led into the timber, Bart took a last glance backwards, but rain and mist shut out all sight of the hill and his enemies.

He had no idea as to the terminus or connections of the railroad, but never relaxed his efforts as long as clear tracks showed beyond.

Bart must have gone six or seven miles, when he saw ahead some scattered houses, then a church steeple and a water tower, and he caught the echo of a locomotive whistle.

"It's the B. & M., and that is Lisle Station!" he soliloquized with unbounded satisfaction.

Fifteen minutes later, wringing wet with rain and perspiration, Bart drove the hand car up to a b.u.mper just behind a little country depot, and leaped to the ground.

"h.e.l.lo!" hailed a man inside, the station agent, staring hard at him through an open window.

Bart nodded calmly, consulting his watch and calculating mentally in a rapid way.

"See here," he said briskly, "this is Lisle Station?"

"Sure."

"On the B. & M. Then the afternoon express is due here from the east in twelve minutes."