Early the next morning Dick and his four boy friends were on their way to the West. Their train was an express and the first stop was at a large city, where several railroads formed a junction. As the boys were looking from the window of the parlor car, Tim, who managed to take his eyes away from the gorgeous fittings long enough to notice what was going on up and down the long station platform, suddenly uttered an exclamation, and grabbed Dick's arm. "Look! Dere he is!" he whispered. "Who?" "Vanderhoof! Colonel Dendon! Bond Broker Bill!" "Where? I don't see anyone." "Dat slick-lookin' man, wid de brown hat on," and Tim pointed to him. "But he hasn't any black moustache," objected Dick, thinking Tim's imagination was getting the best of him. "Of course not. He's cut it off. But I'd know him anywhere by dat scar on his left cheek. Dat's de swindler all right!" As Dick looked he saw that the man with the brown hat did have a large scar on his cheek. It had been hidden by the moustache before. Then, just as the train pulled out, the man looked toward the parlor car. His eyes met Dick's, and, an instant later, the man with the scar was on the run toward the telegraph office. CHAPTER XXIII AT THE MINES "Hold on!" cried Dick, jumping up. "Stop the train!" The cars were rapidly acquiring speed, and Dick ran toward the door with the evident intention of getting off. "Don't jump, Dick!" called Walter Mead. "We're going too fast!" "Dat's right," chimed in Tim. "It's too late!" "Yes, I guess it is," assented Dick. "But, Tim, how do you know that was Vanderhoof? To me he didn't look a bit like him. Besides, how did you know he had a scar under his moustache?" "I've seen him wid his whiskers an' moustache off before," replied the newsboy. "I used to run errands for de sleuths at police headquarters, an' I seen lots of criminals." "But are you sure you saw this man there?" "Cert. He was brought in lots of times fer some kind of crooked game, but most times he was let go, 'cause they couldn't prove anyt'ing agin him. Sometimes he'd have a white beard an' agin a black moustache, but dem fly cops, dem gum-shoe sleuths, dey knowed him every time. I'll stake me reputation dat was him on de platform." "But what can he be doing here?" asked Dick, "and why should he make a bee-line for the telegraph office when he saw me? I'm positive he knew who I was." "Course he did," replied Tim. "He's probably sendin' a telegram to some of his friends in Yazoo City t' be on de lookout for youse." "Do you think so? But how would he know I had started for there?"