"I've got to see Mr. Murdoch," Jack said hurriedly, and up-stairs he darted, to break right in upon the conference between the editors.

Jack told his story, and Mr. Murdoch felt it was only another blow added to the many already fallen upon him and his _Eagle_. "Perhaps you will be better satisfied to leave town," said Mr. Murdoch, uneasily.

"I've enough money to take me to the city, and I'll go. I'm off for New York!" said Jack, eagerly.

"New York?" exclaimed Mr. Murdoch. "That's the thing! Go to the house and get ready. I'll buy you a ticket to Albany, and you can go down on the night boat. They're taking pa.s.sengers for half a dollar. You mustn't be caught! No doubt they are hunting for you now."

Mr. Murdoch was right. At that very moment the cobbler was in the grocery kept by Deacon Abrams, shouting, "We've got him again, Deacon!

He's in town. He works in a paint shop--had paint on his face. Or else he's a blacksmith, or he works in coal, or something black--or dusty. We can run him down now."

While they went for the two others who knew Jack's face, he was putting on his Sunday clothes and packing up. When he came down, there was no ink upon his face, his collar was clean, his hair was brushed, and he was a complete surprise to Mr. Black and the rest.

"I can get a new boy," said Mr. Murdoch, as if he were beginning to recover his spirits; "and I can run the engine myself now I'm well. I can say in the next _Eagle_ that you are gone to the city, and that will help me out of my troubles."

Neither Jack nor Mary quite understood what he meant, and, in fact, they were not thinking about him just then. Mr. Murdoch had said that there was only time to catch the express-train, and they were saying good-by. Mary was crying for the moment, and Jack was telling her what to write to his mother and father and those at home in Crofield.

"It's so sudden, Jack!" said Mary. "But I'm glad you're going. I wish I could go, too."

"I wish you could," said Jack, heartily; "but I'll write. I'll tell you everything. Good-by, Mr. Murdoch's waiting. Good-by!"

The _Eagle_ editor was indeed waiting, and he was very uneasy. "What a calamity it would be," he thought, "to have my own 'devil' arrested for burglary. The _Inquirer_ would enjoy that! It isn't Jack's fault, but I can't bear everything!"

Meanwhile Mary sat at the table and pretended to look among the papers for a new story, but really she was trying to keep from crying over Jack's departure. Mr. Murdoch and Jack had gone to the station.

There was cunning in the plans of the pursuers of Mrs. McNamara's burglar this time. Three of them, each aided by several eager volunteers, dashed around Mertonville, searching every shop in which any sort of face-blacking might be used, and Deacon Abrams himself went to the station with a justice of the peace, a notary-public, a constable, and the man that kept the village pound.

"He won't get by _me_," said the deacon wisely, as Mr. Murdoch and a neatly dressed young gentleman pa.s.sed him, arm in arm.

"Good morning, Mr. Murdoch. The _Eagle's_ improving. You did me justice. We're after that same villain now. We'll get him this time, too."

"Deacon," said the editor, gripping Jack's arm hard, "I'll mention your courage and public spirit again. Tie him tighter next time."

"We will," said the deacon; "and I've got some new subscribers for you, and a column advertis.e.m.e.nt."

Mr. Murdoch hurried to the ticket-window, and Jack patiently looked away from Deacon Abrams all the while.

"There," said Mr. Murdoch, "jump right in. Keep your satchel with you.

I'm going back to the office."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _"There," said Mr. Murdoch, "jump right in."_]

"Good-by," said Jack, pocketing his ticket and entering the car.

He took a seat by the open window, just as the train started.

"Jack's gone, Mary," exclaimed Mr. Murdoch, under his breath, as he re-entered the _Eagle_ office. "Have those men been here again?"

"No," said Mary. "But the chairmen of the two central committees have both been here. Elder Holloway said they would. They will call again."

"What did you say?" the editor asked.

"Why," replied Mary, "I told them you were just getting well."

"So I am," said Mr. Murdoch. "There's a great demand for that number of the _Eagle_. Forty-six old subscribers have stopped their papers, but a hundred and twenty-seven new ones have come in. I can't guess where this will end. Are you going to the house?"

"I think I'd better," said Mary. "If there's anything more I can do--"

"No, no, no! Don't spoil your visit," said he, hastily. "You've had work enough. Now you must be free to rest a little, and meet your friends."

He would not say he was afraid to have her in the _Eagle_ office, to stir up storms for him. But Mary made no objection--she was very willing to give up the work.

Mr. Murdoch came home in a more hopeful state of mind, but soon went to his room and lay down.

"My dear," he said to his wife, "the paper's going right along; but I'm too much exhausted to see anybody. Tell 'em all I'm not well."

Mary was uneasy about Jack, but she need not have worried. The moment the train was in motion, he forgot even Deacon Abrams and Mrs. McNamara in the grand thought that he was actually on his way to the city.

"This train's an express train," he said to himself. "Doesn't she go!

I said I'd get there some day, and now I'm really going! Hurrah for New York! It's good I learned something about the streets--I'll know what to do when I get there."

He had nine dollars in his pocket for capital, but he knew more or less of several businesses and trades.

In the seat in front of him were two gentlemen, who must have been railway men, he thought, from what they said, and it occurred to Jack that he would like to learn how to build a railway.

The train stopped at last, after a long journey, and a well-dressed man got in, came straight to Jack's seat, took the hitherto empty half of it, and began to talk with the men in front as if he had come on board for the purpose. At first Jack paid little attention, but soon they began to mention places he knew.

"So far, so good," remarked the man at his side; "but we're going to have trouble in getting the right of way through Crofield. We'll have to pay a big price for that hotel if we can't use the street."

"I think not," said Jack, with a smile. "There isn't much hotel left in Crofield, now. It was burned down last Sunday."

"What?" exclaimed one of the gentlemen in front. "Are you from Crofield?"

"I live there," said Jack. "Your engineer was there about the time of the fire. The old bridge is down. I heard him say that your line would cross just below it."

The three gentlemen were all attention, and the one who had not before spoken said:

"I know. Through the old Hammond property."

"It used to belong to Mr. Hammond," replied Jack, "but it belongs to my father now."

"Can you give me a list of the other owners of property?" asked the railway man with some interest.

"I can tell you who owns every acre around Crofield, boundary lines and all," answered Jack. "I was born there. You don't know about the people, though. They'll do almost anything to have the road there. My father will help all he can. He says the place is dead now."

"What's his name?" asked the first speaker, with a notebook and a pencil in his hand.

"His is John Ogden. Mine's Jack Ogden. My father knows every man in the county," replied Jack.

"Ogden," said the gentleman in the forward seat, next the window. "My name's Magruder; we three are directors in the new road. I'm a director in this road. Are you to stay in Albany?"