empty packing case and tote you down. Comes last minute, you can jump
out and there you are!"

Bob thought this a splendid plan, and said so.

"Then here's the very case, marked 'Flame City' on purpose-like," was
the cheery rejoinder. "Help me lift it on the barrow, and then you
climb in, and we'll make tracks. Comfortable? All right, we're off."

He adjusted the light lid over the top of the box, which was
sufficiently roomy to allow Bob to sit down, and the curious journey
began. Apparently it was a common occurrence for Mr. Davis to take a
shipment of goods that way, for no one commented. As the wheelbarrow
grated on the crushed stone that surrounded the station, Bob heard
the voice of the man called Bud.

"One-fifty-two's late, as usual," he called. "That young scalawag
hasn't turned up, either. Guess he's going to keep still till the
last minute and figure on getting away with a dash. The girl's in the
waiting-room."

"I'm surprised you're not in there looking in her suitcase for the
young reprobate," said Mr. Davis with thinly veiled sarcasm. "What
happened? Did Carl order you out?"

Carl, the listening Bob judged, must be the ticket agent.

"I'd like to see that whippersnapper order me out!" blustered Bud.
"There's a whole raft of women in there, waiting for the train."

Mr. Davis carefully lowered the wheelbarrow and leaned carelessly
against the box.

"Guess I'll go in and see the girl--like to know how she looks," he
observed a bit more loudly than was necessary.

Bob understood that he was going to explain to Betty and he thanked
him silently with all his heart.

The friendly Mr. Davis strolled into the waiting-room and had no
difficulty in recognizing Betty Gordon. She was the only girl in the
room, in the first place, and she sat facing the door, a bag on
either side of her, and a world of anxiety in her dark eyes. The
groceryman crossed the floor and took the vacant seat at her right.
There was no one within earshot.

"Don't you be scared, Miss," he said quietly. "I'm Micah Davis, and I
just want to tell you that everything's all right with that Bob boy.
I've got him out here in a box, and when the train comes he's a-going
to hop on board before you can say Jack Robinson."

"Oh, you dear!" Betty turned upon the astonished Mr. Davis with a
radiant smile. "I was worried to death about him, because those
dreadful men have been hanging around the station, and they keep
peering in here. You're