HOLDING fast to the edge of the door, to steady himself against the swaying of the car, which was now rumbling along over an uneven piece of track, Jack peered ahead to see if there was a station in view.
“Yet perhaps this freight doesn’t stop at the regular stations,” he remarked. “I’m in a pretty mess, I am. Guess I’d better take lessons in traveling in side-door Pullmans. I need a keeper, I do. Why couldn’t I have left the case in the corner? Then the lurch of the car wouldn’t have toppled it out. Well, it’s easy enough to think that now, but that won’t bring it back.
“That looks like a station just ahead there,” he went on. “And I certainly think the train’s slowing up. I believe I could almost jump now.”
But a look at the ground directly below him showed that the car he was in was moving too rapidly to permit of a safe leap. Then came a perceptible slacking of the train’s speed. At the same time there was a long whistle from the engine.
“That means put on brakes,” reasoned Jack, who knew a little about railroads. “I believe we’re going to stop. Oh, I see,” he added, a moment later. “That’s a water tank just ahead there, instead of a station. They’ve got to stop for water. I’m glad of that; I’d rather not get out near a station. Some one might want to arrest me, though I must be pretty well disguised with all the dirt I’ve gathered up from the floor of this car.”
A little later the train came to a stop, and Jack leaped from the car and started back over the route he had come. He saw a little brook running along the railroad embankment.
“Water!” he exclaimed. “Just what I need most in the world, next to my suit case. Whew! But I’m thirsty!”
He found the water cool and good, and drank heartily. Then he washed his hands and face, and felt better. He brushed as much dirt as possible from his clothes, and then took to the track, intending to walk along it until he came to the river in which his valise had tumbled.
“I might as well make my breakfast as I go along,” he reasoned, as he took from his pocket the last of his scanty supply of food. “Not very appetizing,” he added, as he saw how dry and stale the bread and meat was. Of the cake, none remained, but there was part of a very much crushed piece of pie. Still, Jack was hungry, and he wished he had more of the same kind of food.
The railroad ran for some distance along a high embankment, across a low stretch of meadow, and then it turned, bordering a country highway. Jack decided it would be easier walking on the road than along the ties, so he crossed over.
“It can’t be more than a couple of miles back,” he said to himself. “My things will be pretty well soaked, but I guess I can dry them out.”
As he went around a bend in the road, he came to a place where another highway joined the one on which he was traveling. At the same time he saw, coming along the other road, a country lad, driving a wagon, in which were a number of milk cans. The youthful driver spied Jack.
“Want a lift?” he asked good-naturedly.
“Thanks, but it depends on which way you are going,” replied our hero.
“I’m going along this road,” was the answer, and the lad pointed to the highway bordering the track. “I’m taking this milk to the dairy,” he added. “Ye can ride as far as I go.”
“Then I guess I will. I want to get to where the railroad crosses the river, about two miles back.”
“That’s the Wickatunk creek; that ain’t no river,” remarked the young milkman, “Goin’ fishin’ in it?”
“Well, yes, you might call it that.”
“There ain’t no fish in it, around here. About three miles down is a good place, though.”
“I don’t expect to catch any fish,” said Jack, with a smile.
“Ye don’t? Then what in Tunket be ye goin’ fishin’ fer?”
“My dress-suit case.”
The boy, who had halted his horse, looked at Jack sharply. Evidently he thought the stranger was not quite sound in his mind.
“That’s right,” went on our hero, with a smile. “My suit case toppled into the river as I was riding over it in a freight car. I’m going back to see if I can’t fish it out.”
“Oh,” remarked the other lad. “Well, come on up, and I’ll drive ye there. I thought maybe ye was jokin’.”
“No, it’s far from being a joke. I hope I get it out. I need the clothes that are in it, though by the time I get them they may look as badly as this suit does,” and he glanced down at the one he wore, which was wrinkled and dirty from his ride in the freight car.
Jack got up on the seat beside the farmer lad, and briefly told the circumstances of his loss, saying nothing, however, about having run away.
He said he was traveling in the freight car because he could not afford any other means of transportation, which was true enough.
“I’ll help ye look,” volunteered the boy. “I’ve got lots of time. I started fer th’ dairy early this mornin’. Did yer satchel have anything heavy in it, so’s it would sink?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m afraid it wouldn’t float very well, after the clothes got water-soaked. Is the river very deep?”
“’Tain’t a river, I tell ye. It’s a creek.”
“It looked like a river to me, and a mighty big one, when I saw my case fall into it. Is the creek very deep?”
“Not very; only in spots. It’s kinder deep where th’ railroad bridge is.”
During the ride that followed, the two lads conversed on various topics, Jack asking many questions about the country in that vicinity. He made cautious inquiries as to whether there was any alarm out for his arrest, and found, to his relief, that there was not.
Arriving at the bridge, the country lad, who said his name was Ferd Armstrong, tied his horse, and went down to the edge of the creek to help Jack look for his property.
“That’s about where it fell in,” said Jack, throwing a stone into the water as nearly as he could at the spot where he had seen the case disappear. “Maybe if I had a long pole I could fish it out.”
“I know a better way than that,” volunteered Ferd.
“How?”
“Take off your shoes and stockings and wade in. I’ll help ye.”
The boys did this, and soon were walking carefully about in the creek, peering here and there for a sight of the case. The stream was clear, and they could see bottom almost everywhere. But there was no sign of the flat valise.
“Th’ current must have carried it below th’ bridge,” suggested Ferd. “We’ll look there. But don’t wade under th’ bridge. There’s deep holes there, made by an eddy. It’s over yer head in one place.”
They walked along the bank until they were below the bridge, and then they resumed their search. Jack got a long pole and poked it into places where Ferd said it was too deep to wade, but their efforts were fruitless. The dress-suit case had disappeared.
“It’s either been carried a long way downstream, or else some one saw it and walked off with it,” declared Jack. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to do without it. But it’s tough luck.”
“Where ye goin’ now?” asked Ferd.
“I don’t know, exactly. I must get a place to work. Do you know of any farmers around here who might hire me?”
“Dunno’s I do. They mostly have all th’ hired men they need by now. Do ye know anythin’ about milkin’ cows?”
Jack shook his head.
“If ye did; dad might hire ye,” went on the young farmer. “He needs a hand to milk cows. Th’ last man we had left because a cow kicked him.”
“Then I don’t think I’d care for the place.”
“Oh, pshaw! A cow kick ain’t nothin’. Their feet is soft. A hoss hurts when he kicks ye, though.”
“I should think he would. I don’t believe I care to be kicked by either. Well, if you don’t think there’s any chance to get work around here, I’ll have to travel on,” and Jack spoke rather wearily.
“Ye might git a job at th’ dairy where I’m takin’ this milk,” went on Ferd. “They have lots of men an’ boys. If you want, I’ll give ye a lift there, an’ ye kin ask. I know th’ foreman of th’ cheese department.”
“Thanks, I’ll try it. I’m afraid I have put you to a lot of bother as it is.”
“Aw, shucks! That ain’t nothin’. I got up early t’-day, an’ I’ve got lots of time. Usually I’m two hours later than this bringin’ over th’ milk from our place.”
“What was your hurry this morning?”
“I want t’ git back quick, so’s I kin go t’ th’ circus. I ain’t been t’ one in two year.”
“Is there a circus coming here?” asked Jack, a sudden idea coming into his mind.
“It’s comin’ t’ Mulford; that’s the next town. It’s a dandy show. I seen th’ pictures. Be ye goin’?”
“I don’t see how I can, very well,” replied Jack, though he did not say that the reason was because he had no money. “I must look for a place to work.”
“Maybe ye’ll git a job at th’ dairy.”
“Well, I hope I do, but if I should I couldn’t leave it to go to a circus.”
“No, I suppose not. Waal, that’s hard luck. G’lang there, Dobbin,” this last to his horse. “Waal, I’m goin’. I’ve been savin’ up fer it over three months. I’ve got a dollar an’ thirteen cents. I kin git in fer half a dollar, an’ have sixty-three cents t’ spend.”
“I guess you’ll have a good time,” commented Jack.
“Betcher boots I will! That’s what I got up so early fer. Say,” Ferd added, as if a new thought had come to him, “did ye have yer breakfast?”
“I had some breakfast,” replied Jack. He hardly felt like calling it his regular morning meal.
“I jest happened t’ think they don’t serve meals in freight cars,” went on the country lad, with a shrewd smile. “Say, how’d ye like a nice drink of rich milk? Our cows give fine milk.”
“I’d like it very much,” answered Jack. “But can you spare it?”
“Shucks, yes! I’ve got a hundred an’ sixty quarts here in these cans. Wait; I’ll git ye a good drink.”
“I haven’t a cup or a glass,” objected Jack, “and I’m afraid I can’t drink out of one of those cans.”
“I’ll fix it,” replied Ferd. He stopped the horse and then, removing the top of one of the cans, tilted the receptacle over until a stream of thick, creamy milk flowed into the cover.
“There ye are,” he announced. “Drink that, an’ it’ll make ye feel better.”
It certainly did. Jack thought it was the best beverage he had ever had, not even excepting an ice cream soda.
The ride was resumed, and soon they came in sight of a series of low buildings.
“That’s the dairy,” announced Ferd. “Now we’ll see if ye kin git a job there.”