“He was on the list yesterday. Must have missed the train.” Barry agreed and the matter was dropped. His feet propped on his suit-case, he watched the hillclad slope as the train panted around the curves. He found himself wishing that Peaches were there. Behind him there was a good deal of noise and horseplay, encouraged rather than frowned on by the coaches. At Sanborn Mills, the first halt, half the party flocked outside and indulged in all the pranks they could think of. There wasn’t much to be seen there: a few houses climbing a straggling road, a store, the station, and the old brown buildings of the mills leaning over the bank of the splashing stream across from the railroad. The train went on, following the East Fork, hardly more than a trout-brook now, and jerking and grinding around a shoulder of the mountain. When the shrill whistle announced their approach to the next station, Barry arose. “Guess I’ll get a breath of air,” he said. Larry Smythe yawned and nodded, but didn’t accompany the other. As the train slowed, another rush down the aisle began, and Barry was jostled through the door. Clyde, one of the laughing crowd, hailed him. “Come on, Barry!” he cried. “Take a look around the city!” But Barry shook his head soberly and kept his place on the car platform. Mount Sippick was even less of a metropolis than Sanborn Mills. A narrow dirt road climbed upward, hugging the mountain, and along it were four buildings, the nearer combining the purposes of dwelling, store, and post-office. There was no baggage-truck here for the amusement of the invaders, but they managed to create plenty of noise and a good deal of interest on the part of the half-dozen inhabitants gathered for the daily event. Some of the fellows wandered as far as the little bridge which hung well above the boisterous stream, and when without warning the train started on, they had to sprint hard to reach it. Most of them climbed aboard the rear platform, but Clyde, finding so many ahead of him there and fearing that by the time he got a chance to clamber up it would be too late, raced on to the platform ahead. As the track was nearly level for a short distance beyond the station, the train acquired speed quickly and there was a moment or two when Clyde doubted the issue. The station loiterers jeeringly cheered him on, and after running the length of the platform, he reached the intersection of two coaches and made a desperate leap.