"This has got _me_ guessing," said Tom.

"He was tangoing around here," said Roy, pointing his flashlight to the ground, "that's sure. Maybe the little Indian walked the rail."

But an inspection of the rail showed that he had not done that, unless, indeed, the recent rain had obliterated the marks.

They examined the platform carefully, the steps, the one or two hogsheads, but no sign did they reveal.

"It gets me," said Tom, as they sat down on the edge of the platform, dangling their legs.

"He swore he wouldn't go near a railroad--remember?" said Roy, smiling a little wistfully.

Tom slowly shook his head.

"It's all my fault," said Roy.

"Meanwhile, we're losing time," said Tom.

"You don't suppose----" began Roy. "Where do you suppose that freight stopped? Here?"

Tom said nothing for a few moments. Then he jumped down and kneeling with his light began again examining the confusion of footprints near the siding. Roy watched him eagerly. He felt guilty and discouraged. Tom was apparently absorbed with some fresh thought. Around one footprint he drew a ring in the soil. Then he got up and crept along by the rail throwing his light upon it. About twelve or fifteen feet along this he paused, and crossing suddenly, examined the companion rail exactly opposite. Then he straightened up.

"What is it?" asked Roy. But he got no answer.

Tom went back along the rail till he came to a point twelve or fifteen feet in the other direction from the group of footprints, and here he made another careful scrutiny of both rails. The group of footprints was outside the track and midway between the two points in which he seemed so much interested.

"This is the end of _our_ tracking," he said at length.

"What's the matter?"

"Come here and I'll show you. See that footprint--it's only half a one--the front half--see? That's the last one of the lot. That's where he climbed into the car--see?"

Roy stood speechless.

"See? Now come here and I'll show you something. See those little rusty places on the track? It's fresh rust--see? You can wipe it off with your finger. There's where the wheels were--see? One, two, three, four--same on the other side, see? And down there," pointing along the track, "it's the same way. If it hadn't been raining this week, we'd never known about a freight car being stalled here, hey? See, those footprints are just half-way between the rusty spots. There's where the door was. See?

This little front half of a footprint tells the story. He had to climb to get in--poor kid. He went on a railroad train, after all."

Roy could say nothing. He could only stare as Tom pointed here and there and fitted things together like a picture puzzle. The car was gone, but it had left its marks, just as the boy had.

"You put it into my head when you mentioned the train," said Tom.

"Oh, sure; _I_ put it into your head," said Roy, in disgust. "_I'm_ a wonderful scout--_I_ ought to have a tin medal! It was you brought me that letter back. It was Pee-wee got the bird down and won a boat for us--and I've turned him out of it," he added, bitterly.

"No, you----"

"Yes, I have. And it was _you_ that tracked him, and it was _you_ spelled this out and it's _you_--it's just like _you_, too--to turn around and say I put it into your head. The only thing _I've_ done in this whole blooming business is try to insult Mary Temple--only--only you wouldn't let me get away with it," he stammered.

"Roy," interrupted Tom, "listen--just a minute." He had never seen Roy like this before.

"Come on," said Roy, sharply. "You've done all _you_ could. Come on back!"

Tom was not much at talking, but seeing his friend in this state seemed to give him words and he spoke earnestly and with a depth of feeling.

"It's always _you_," said Roy. "It's----"

"Roy," said Tom, "don't--wait a minute--_please_. When we got back to the boat I said we'd have to find him--don't go on like that, Roy--please! I thought I could find him. But you see I can't--_I_ can't find him."

"You can make these tracks talk to you. I'm a----"

"No, you're not; listen, _please_. I said--you remember how I said I wanted to be alone with you--you remember? Well, now we are alone, and it's going to be you to do it, Roy; it's going to be _you_ to bring Pee-wee back. Just the same as you made me a scout a year ago, you remember? You're the only one can do it, Roy," he put his hand on Roy's shoulder, "and I'll--I'll help you. And it'll seem like old times--sort of--Roy. But you're the one to do it. You haven't forgotten about the searchlight, have you, Roy? You remember how you told me about the scout's arm having a long reach? You remember, Roy? Come on, hurry up!"

CHAPTER XII

THE LONG ARM OF THE SCOUT

As Tom spoke, there came rushing into Roy's memory as vivid as the searchlight's shaft, a certain dark night a year before when Tom Slade, hoodlum, had stood by his side and with eyes of wonder watched him flash a message from Blakeley's Hill to the city below to undo a piece of vicious mischief of which Tom had been guilty. He had turned the heavens into an open book for Westy Martin, miles away, to read what he should do.

A thrill of new hope seized Roy.

"So you see it _will_ be you, Roy."

"It has to be you to remind me of it."

"Shut up!" said Tom.

They ran for the boat at top speed, for, as they both realized, it was largely a fight against time.

"That train was dragging along pretty slow when it pa.s.sed _us_," said Tom.

"Sure, 'bout a million cars," Roy panted. "There's an up-grade, too, I think, between here and Poughkeepsie. Be half an hour, anyway, before they make it. You're a wonder. We'll kid the life out of Pee-wee for riding on a train after all. 'Spose he did it on purpose or got locked in?"

"Locked in, I guess," said Tom. "Let's try scout pace, I'm getting winded."

The searchlight which had been an important adjunct of the old _Nymph_ had not been used on the _Good Turn_, for the reason that the boys had not run her at night. It was an acetylene light of splendid power and many a little craft Harry Stanton had picked up with it in his nocturnal cruising. Pee-wee had polished its reflector one day to pa.s.s the time, but with the exception of that attention it had lain in one of the lockers.

Reaching the boat they pulled the light out, connected it up, and found to their delight that it was in good working order.

"My idea," said Roy, now all excitement, "is to flash it from that hill, then from the middle of the river. Of course, it's a good deal a question of luck, but it seems as if _somebody_ ought to catch it, in all these places along the river. Be great if we could find him to-night, hey?"

"They'd just have to hold him till we could get there in the boat--they couldn't get him back here."

"No sooner said than stung," said Roy; "hurry up, bring that can, and some matches and--yes, you might as well bring the Manual anyway, thought I know that code backwards."

"You're right you do," said Tom.

He was glad to see Roy himself again and taking the lead, as usual.