Then I climbed back into the cab, and sank down before the warm blaze
in a stupor of faintness as the engine glided smoothly and swiftly down
the track.
CHAPTER XXV
A FLUTTER IN THE MARKET
The gray pall of the storm hung over San Francisco. The dim light of
the morning scarcely penetrated into the hallways as we climbed the
stairs that led to our lodgings, leaving behind us the trail of
dripping garments. I heaved a sigh of relief as Trent opened the door,
and we once more faced the pleasing prospect of warmth, dry clothing
and friends.
We had made the run from Niles without incident, and had left the
engine on a siding at Brooklyn without being observed. If the railroad
company still has curiosity, after all these years, to know how that
engine got from Niles to Brooklyn, I trust that the words I have just
written may be taken as an explanation and apology.
"Where's Barkhouse?" I asked, becoming comfortable once more with dry
clothes, a warm room and a fresh bandage on my arm.
"He hasn't shown up, sir," said Trent. "Owens and Larson went out to
look for him toward evening yesterday, but there wasn't a sign of him."
"Try again to-day. You may pick up news at Borton's or some of the
water-front saloons."
"Oh, there was a letter for you," said Trent. "I near forgot."
I snatched the envelope, for the address was in the hand of the
Unknown. The sheet within bore the words:
"Where is the boy? Have you removed him? Send the key to Richmond.
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