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Page 52
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 bumper just behind a little country depot,
and leaped to the ground.
"Hello!" 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."
"You seem to be well-posted."
"I ought to be," answered Bart--"I am the express agent at
Pleasantville."
"What!" ejaculated the man incredulously.
"Yes," nodded Bart, smiling. "Won't you help me get this trunk to the
platform?"
The station agent came outside and lent a hand as suggested, but he
remarked:
"The express doesn't stop here."
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