CHAPTER IV.
ON TO THE CITY.
Nick was somewhat dismayed, but he took the situation pluckily, and did not act at all like a guilty boy.
“It’s about the fire at the Towns house, I suppose?” he said, stretching himself and yawning.
“That’s what it is,” replied the marshal, with twinkling eyes.
“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” Nick asserted stoutly.
“You didn’t, eh?” the other rejoined, trying to look severe.
“No, I didn’t; and if you’ve followed me all the way from Parkdale for that, you’ve been wasting time.”
To the boy’s surprise, the marshal burst out laughing.
“Why, Nick, who accused you?” he said.
“But----”
“I guess nobody has accused you but yourself, and I don’t say it’s a guilty conscience at work. You heard the stories flying around last night; you got frightened, and you beat it while your shoes were good. Isn’t that so, my lad?”
Nick looked confused, but very much relieved.
“That’s about the size of it,” he said.
“Now that you know, I don’t want you, Nick,” the marshal went on, “I’ll tell you who I do want.”
“Who is it?”
“The guilty one.”
“Do you mean Frank or Will? If you do----”
“Frank and Will,” the marshal interrupted, “are wanted by Ahab Towns, but that’s none of my business. If they want to run away, it doesn’t concern me. No, Nick, the chap that set fire to the barn is the only one I want just now.”
“I see; and you don’t know who he is?”
“Did I say so?”
“Then you do know?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Who do you think it is?”
“Jack Benson,” the marshal answered.
“I thought so!” cried Nick.
“Have you seen him?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you any idea where he would be likely to hide?”
“I haven’t, marshal.”
Nick told how he had seen Jack the night before, and the marshal related how they had learned of his guilt in the matter of the fire. After the first excitement had abated somewhat, it was proved that the clumsy writing and horrible spelling on the placard that the audacious but foolish Jack had attached to Towns’ front door was not the work of such intelligent boys and good scholars as Nick, Frank, or Will.
Besides, on the reverse side was found some scrawling memoranda made by Jack Benson, and in this way the paper was traced to him. And to fix the guilt more securely on the revengeful Benson, a passer-by had seen him in the yard of the Towns home a little while before the fire. And next, by way of a crowning bit of stupidity, Jack had boasted of his crime among his chums, and then, learning that he had been found out, he had fled from the village as fast as his legs could carry him.
The marshal had started to try and find him, and had a horse and buggy near the station, where he had discovered Nick fast asleep.
“I have an idea that he crossed the country to Allentown, where some relatives of his live,” said the marshal. “Anyway, I shall go there and look for him. Going to the city, Nick?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Waiting for a train?”
“Oh, no. I was only resting here.”
“You haven’t got the Alden boys hidden anywhere about here, have you, Nick?” asked the marshal, winking.
“No, sir. I have no idea even where they are.”
“Well, tell them to put as much space as possible between themselves and Ahab Towns if you see them. He is furious at everything, and wants them back to vent his spite on if nothing else. And say, Nick, I think I can give you a lift on your way. Here.”
The marshal wrote a few words on a card and handed it to Nick.
“I have a relative who runs the engine on the wood train, due here in a short time. Hand him that card and make yourself generally useful and he’ll give you a ride, I guess.”
Nick considered himself very fortunate at meeting the marshal, frightened as he was at first. It was a great relief to know that suspicion had been removed from himself and the Alden boys so far as the fire at Parkdale was concerned, and he longed to find Frank and Will and join them in the new life that now looked so bright with the shadows of past anxiety removed.
At about eight o’clock a rusty locomotive steamed up to the station and began to take in water. Nick handed the card to the engineer. It resulted in an invitation to Nick to take a seat in the locomotive.
This he did. The train ran from down the river to the county seat, and had about ten cars loaded with cordwood. The route was desolate, the rails uneven, and the rolling stock old and dilapidated, yet Nick enjoyed the journey, and for over two hours did little else but view the changing landscape.
At every curve or crossroad the engineer told him to pull the whistle and ring the bell, and so promptly and intelligently did Nick obey these orders that he finally trusted him entirely to keep the lookout from the window of the locomotive.
It was well that Nick did not tire of the task and that he was vigilant in his duty, else a serious and probably fatal accident might have occurred.
At a curve in the road Nick suddenly aroused the engineer by giving the quick signal of warning and shouting excitedly:
“Stop the locomotive!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Some one is motioning us ahead!”
“Boys!” remarked the engineer carelessly as he glanced out of the window of the cab and saw that two boys were signaling the train frantically.
“No, no. They mean something! The rails seem broken beyond them.”
The engineer sprang to the lever quickly and reversed it. None too quickly, for when the puffing, panting monster of steam came to a halt it was only a very few feet from the evidences of what might have caused a terrible accident.
Two rails were torn up and several wooden ties crossed the roadway, forming a formidable obstacle to progress.
Two boys, who had so opportunely signaled the train, had stepped aside, and for them Nick looked eagerly.
“It’s lucky you saw the youngsters!” said the engineer as he viewed the broken rails.
“The boys who warned us saved us,” responded Nick. “I should not have discovered the break until we were fairly upon it but for them.”
“Where are they?”
“Here they come.”
The boys approached the engine.
Suddenly, with a cry of delight and surprise, Nick sprang from the cab.
“Frank--Will!” he ejaculated.
“Why, it’s Nick Collins!”
The meeting was a most happy one, and the trio forgot their surroundings momentarily amid the excitement of joyous reunion.
The train hands had gathered about the front of the engine and were discussing the broken roadway. They decided that a broken axle on the night train had dragged over the ties and dislocated them. Then they set at work to repair the damage.
Nick overwhelmed Frank and Will with questions as to their being there.
“We got frightened when we heard that we were accused of burning the barn at home,” explained Frank.
“And left the village at once?”
“Yes. About an hour ago we reached here and saw that an accident would occur if we did not do something to give warning.”
Both boys were overjoyed when Nick told them of the discovery of the real incendiary in Jack Benson.
“I suspected him,” cried Frank excitedly. “It was he who stole our bundle, too. He must have heard us talking about it. Well, I’m glad we aren’t leaving home under a cloud.”
“Are you still determined to go?” asked Nick.
“Yes,” responded Frank firmly.
“And you, Will?”
“I go where Frank does.”
“Then we will all go together. Come, boys, we won’t starve so long as we can work, and we won’t get into trouble if we keep honest and behave ourselves.”
“Are you going to the city, Nick?” asked Frank.
“Yes.”
“On this train?”
“As far as it goes in that direction.”
“Where is that?”
“To the county seat.”
“I wish we could ride with you.”
“Do you suppose I would let you walk and me stay here?”
“You can all go!” cried the engineer, surprising the trio in the midst of their talk, which he had, in part, overheard. “We owe you young fellows a big debt of gratitude for warning us.”
Frank and Will looked pleased at the hearty compliment, and when the broken rails had been repaired they were given comfortable seats in the tender of the engine.
They reached the county seat, the terminus of the road, about noon. Here a pleasant surprise awaited them.
The engineer insisted on their accompanying him to a restaurant, and such a meal as he ordered for his hungry young friends they had never partaken of before.
“Well,” he said when they had finished the repast, “I suppose you are going to the city?”
“Yes,” replied Nick.
“It’s fifty miles yet, you know.”
“We can walk it in two days.”
“Or steal a ride now and then,” put in Will.
“Sort of economical, ain’t you?” laughed the engineer, who was deftly leading the boys on to learn the state of their pockets.
“We have to be,” said Nick.
“No money?”
“A few cents, that’s all.”
“Well, just walk with me as far as the railroad offices till I hand in my report and I’ll direct you the best way to go.”
The engineer was bound that the brave signalers of the train at the broken rails should not go unrewarded if he could help it. When they reached the company’s offices he told them to sit down in the outer room, and was gone for some time.
When he returned a clerical-looking gentleman accompanied him.
“So these are the boys, eh?” said this individual, beaming benignantly on the youthful trio.
“Yes, sir.”
“Saved the train and want to go to the city?”
The engineer nodded assent.
The gentleman, who was an official of the road, shook hands with each of the boys. Then he went into the inner office again and returned shortly. He bore an envelope in his hand and handed it to Nick.
“That will help you on your way,” he said, “and if ever you come here again, remember, we don’t forget your services, and you shall travel free over our line.”
The boys were voluble in their thanks as the official waved them a pleasant adieu.
“What’s in the envelope?” asked Will curiously, as they again reached the street.
“Open it and see,” smiled the engineer.
Nick did so.
The inclosure consisted of two pieces of paper.
One was a pass over the railroad to the city for the three of them.
The other was a crisp, new five-dollar bill. You may be sure that there were exclamations of delight by the happy boys at this unexpected help toward reaching their proposed destination.