"I know. At the first stop, or you might do it here before we start, wire ahead to your other train managers to do the same thing. Tell them who it is you suspect. You'll be able to catch the squadron before they get in, though I do not believe our man will be found anywhere on that train."

"Why not?"

"The squadron went out before the guy ropes were cut."

"Great head! Great head, Phil Forrest," glowed the manager.

"You're a bigger man than I am any day in the week.

Then, according to your reasoning, the fellow ought either to be on this section or the one just ahead of it?"

"Yes. But don't laugh at me if I don't happen to be right.

It's just an idea I have gotten into my head."

"I most certainly shall not laugh, my boy. I am almost convinced that you are right. At least, the plan is well worth carrying out. I'll give the orders to the train managers before we start."

"I would suggest that you tell them not to give the orders to the men until ready to begin the search in the morning."

"Good! Fine!" glowed the showman.

"I'm going to turn out and help search this section myself,"

said Phil. "You know I have some interest in it, seeing that it is my plan," he smiled.

"Better keep out of it," advised Mr. Sparling. "You might fall off from the cars. You are not used to walking over the tops of them."

"Oh, yes I am. I have done it a number of times this season just to help me to steady my nerves. I can walk a swaying box car in a gale of wind and not get dizzy."

Mr. Sparling held up his hands protestingly.

"Don't tell me any more. I believe you. If you told me you could run the engine I'd believe you. If there be anything you don't know how to do, or at least know something about, I should be glad to know what that something is."

"May I send your messages?" asked the lad. "If you will write them now I'll take them over to the station. It must be nearly starting time."

"Yes; it is. No; I'll call one of the men."

Mr. Sparling threw up his desk and rapidly scribbled his directions to the train managers ahead. After that he sent forward for the manager of their particular section, to whom he confided Phil Forrest's plan, the lad taking part in the discussion that followed. The train manager laughed at the idea that anyone could steal a ride on his train persistently without being detected.

Mr. Sparling very emphatically told the manager that what he thought about it played no part in the matter at all. He was expected to make a thorough search of the train."

"His search won't amount to anything" thought Phil shrewdly.

"I'll do the searching for this section and I'll find the fellow if he is on board. I hope I shall. I owe Red Larry something, and I'm anxious to pay the debt."

The train soon started, Phil bidding his employer good night, went forward to No. 1 which was the forward sleeper on the train, next to the box and flat cars. He peered into Teddy Tucker's berth, finding that lad sound asleep, after which he tumbled into his own bed.

But Phil was restless. He was so afraid that he would oversleep that he slept very little during the night.

At the first streak of dawn he tumbled quietly from his berth, and, putting on his clothes, stepped out to the front platform, where he took a long breath of the fresh morning air.

The train was climbing a long grade in the Sierra Nevadas and the car couplings were groaning under the weight put upon them.

Phil climbed to the top of the big stock car just ahead of him, and sat down on the brake wheel.

Far ahead he saw several men going over the cars.

"They have not only begun the search but they are almost through," muttered Phil. "As I thought, they are not half doing it. I guess I'll take a hand."

Phil stood up, caught his balance and began walking steadily over the top of the swaying car. At the other end of the car he opened the trap door which was used to push hay through for the animals, examining its interior carefully. There was no sign of a stranger inside, nor did he expect to find any there.

"He'll be in a place less likely to be looked into," muttered the lad starting on again and jumping down to a flat car just ahead.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

"There's somebody climbing over the train," called one of the searchers to the train manager.

All hands turned, gazing off toward Phil. He swung his hands toward them, whereat they recognized the lad and went on about their work.

"Wonder they saw even me!" grumbled the lad, moving slowly along.

It seemed almost impossible that one could hide on a train like that. Here and there men were sleeping under the wagons, and Phil made it his business to get a look into the face of each of them. Not a man did he find who bore the slightest resemblance to Red Larry or Bad Eye.

"It doesn't look very promising, I must say," he muttered, jumping lightly from one flat car to another.

Phil had searched faithfully until finally he reached a "flat"

just behind that on which stood the great gilded band wagon.

Now, under its covering of heavy canvas, none of its gaudy tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs were to be seen.

Phil sat down on the low projection at the side of the flat car, eyeing the band wagon suspiciously.

Somehow he could not rid himself of the impression that that wagon would bear scrutiny.

"I'll bet they never looked into it. Last year when we were a road show, I remember how the men used to sleep in there and how Teddy got thrown out when he walked on somebody's face," and Phil laughed softly at the memory. "I'm going to climb up there."

To do this was not an easy matter, for the band wagon seemed to loom above him like a tent. The canvas stretched over it, extending clear down to the wheels, to which it was secured by ropes. The only way the Circus Boy could get up into the wagon seemed to be to crawl under the canvas at the bottom and gradually to work his way up.

"I'm going to try it," he decided all at once. "Of course they didn't look into it. Maybe they are afraid they will find someone. Well, here goes! If I fall off that will be the last of me, but I am not going to fall. I ought to be able to climb by this time if I'm ever going to."

Phil got up promptly, glanced toward the long train that was winding its way up the steep mountain, then stepped across the intervening s.p.a.ce between the two cars. He wasted no time, but immediately lifted the canvas and peered along the side of the wagon.

He discovered that he would have to go to the forward end of it in order to reach the top, because the steps were at that end.

There the canvas was drawn tighter, so the lad untied one of the ropes, leaving one corner of the covering flapping in the breeze.

Cautiously and quietly he began climbing up, the wagon swaying dizzily with the motion of the train, making it more and more difficult to cling to it as he got nearer the top. The air was close, and soon after the boy began going up, the sun beat down on the canvas cover suffocatingly.

Now he had reached the top. High seats intervened between him and the other end, so that he could not see far ahead of him.

Phil dropped down into the wagon and began creeping toward the rear.

He stumbled over some properties that had been stowed in the wagon, making a great clatter. Instantly there was a commotion in the other end of the car.