“Oh, I know you. You’re the fellow who trains with young Newton. Of course you’d be here, and of course this is the car. Yes,” decided Sherry, scanning its side. “Sure. Here’s the destination marked in chalk.” Sherry read the sprawling writing: “7-23, Pleasantville,” marked across the locked door of the car, and pulled out a document. “That’s the way we do it,” he said in a boastful chuckle, picking up a coupling pin and using it to hammer some tacks through the paper. “There you are. In the name of the law this car seized in transit, ipse dixit, e pluribus unum, according to the statoots therein pervided. Quite a lawyer, hey? Boy, it’s a life sentence to tamper with that car till the judge says move her.” “It is?” said Markham, tranquilly. The big braggart swaggered away. Markham jumped down, watched him out of sight, jumped up and cracked his heels together. Then with his handkerchief he rubbed off the destination mark that had deluded old Dorsett’s boisterous and self-important emissary. Then Markham chuckled as he glanced at the document tacked to the car door. He now moved over to a line of made-up freights on another track. He lingered in their vicinity for over an hour. When he had seen an engine run on a caboose and then switch to the head of the train, Markham, with a good deal of complacency in his face, started back to join his friends. As he neared the house where he had left Mrs. Ismond and Frank, he noticed a man leave the place. It was Sherry. “All right,” announced Markham, breaking in upon his friends a moment later. “I’ve found out what old Dorsett is up to.” “Yes, so have we,” answered Frank, who stood by the side of his mother, who was looking down dejectedly. “They have just notified us that the car containing our furniture is attached.” “That so?” said Markham, with a broad smile. “Well, what are you going to do, Frank?” “We can’t leave Greenville, that’s all,” said Frank, with a sigh. “Mother, I’ll go down to the station and get the money back for our tickets.” “Hold on,” cried Markham, “you won’t do any such thing. How soon does that train leave, Frank?” “In half an hour.” “Well, get your traps together. You’re going to take that train all right.” “Why, what are you talking about?” demanded Frank, staring at Markham in wonder. “I mean that fellow who was just here has made a mess of it,” said Markham. “He’s attached a car all right, but not your car.” “What?” “No, sir-ree! Your car, my dear Frank, I am happy to tell you, is by this time twenty miles over the county line whirling on its way to Pleasantville. Hip, hip, hurrah!” “See here, Markham,” said Frank, seriously, seizing his friend’s arm in an endeavor to cure his jubilant antics. “What have you been up to.”