"There won't be any along yet a while," said Roy. "There's one stopped up there a ways now." They could hear the shunting up the track, interspersed with faint voices calling. "Here's where he's put one over on us," said Roy. "Poor kid." "Here's where he's been reading Sir Baden-Powell, you mean. Wait till I see if he worked the boomerang trick. See that tree up there?" It was amazing how readily Tom assumed that Pee-wee would do just what he had done to elude pursuit. "Tree's always a suspicious thing," said he; "this is a Boer wrinkle--comes from South Africa." He did not bother hunting for the tracks in the hubbly ground, but made straight for the tree. "Poor kid," was all he could say as he picked up a few freshly fallen leaves and a twig or two. "He's good at climbing anyway." He examined one of the leaves carefully with his flashlight. "Squint around," he said to Roy, "and see if you can find where he stuck his staff in the ground." Roy got down, poking his light here and there, and parting the rough growth. "Here it is," said he. Oh, it was all easy--too easy, for a scout. It gave them no feeling of triumph, only pity for the stout-hearted little fellow who had tried to escape them. A more careful examination of the lower branches of the tree and of the ground beneath was enough. Tom did not even bother about the prints leading back to the railroad, but went back to the tracks and after a few minutes picked up the trail again there. This they followed till they came to the siding, now deserted. Here, for a few minutes, it did seem as if Pee-wee had succeeded in baffling them, for the prints leaving the ties ran over to the siding and there ended in a confused collection of footprints pointing in every direction. Evidently, Pee-wee had paused here, but what direction he had taken from this point they could not see. "This has got _me_ guessing," said Tom. "He was tangoing around here," said Roy, pointing his flashlight to the ground, "that's sure. Maybe the little Indian walked the rail." But an inspection of the rail showed that he had not done that, unless, indeed, the recent rain had obliterated the marks. They examined the platform carefully, the steps, the one or two hogsheads, but no sign did they reveal. "It gets me," said Tom, as they sat down on the edge of the platform, dangling their legs. "He swore he wouldn't go near a railroad--remember?" said Roy, smiling a little wistfully. Tom slowly shook his head. "It's all my fault," said Roy. "Meanwhile, we're losing time," said Tom. "You don't suppose----" began Roy. "Where do you suppose that freight stopped? Here?"