IN PURSUIT
Before Mr. Bobbsey could bring his automobile to a stop, and almost as
soon as the old woman in the faded shawl was on the platform of one of
the cars, the engine tooted twice and the train began to move.
“Oh, she’s going to get away!” exclaimed Bert.
“Stop the train!” cried Nan. “Somebody stop the train!”
Mr. Bobbsey brought his automobile to a standstill by a sudden pull on
the emergency brake. Then he jumped out and ran swiftly across the depot
platform toward the moving train.
“Wait a minute! Stop! I want to speak to you! I want that old lady in
the faded shawl!” he cried, for now the strange old woman was out of
sight, inside one of the cars.
“Look out, sir! Don’t try to get on that moving train!” cried one of the
railroad men, stepping in front of Mr. Bobbsey. “It’s dangerous!”
“I don’t want to get on the train! I want to get a passenger off the
train—the little old lady in the faded shawl,” explained Mr. Bobbsey.
“Sorry, sir, but it’s too late. The train’s going too fast and I can’t
stop it,” the railroad man said.
And as Nan and Bert, seated in the automobile, watched, they saw the
train gathering speed. It was carrying farther and farther away from
them the strange woman—the woman who could solve the mystery of Baby
May.
“Well, I guess I’m too late,” sighed Mr. Bobbsey, in disappointed tones
as he watched the train disappear from sight around a curve. “If I had
only been a minute or two sooner! But there’s no use worrying, I
suppose,” he added.
“Is there any trouble?” asked the railroad man. “Was that lady your
wife?”
“Oh, no,” answered Mr. Bobbsey, with a smile. “I just wanted to get some
information from her. Where does that train go?” he asked. “And where
does it stop first?”
“It goes to Brockton,” the railroad man replied. “And the first stop is
Miles Junction. Were you thinking of trying to catch up to it in your
auto?”
“Oh, no. But I think I will send a telegram to the conductor and ask him
about the old woman. He’ll surely be able to pick her out from the other
passengers. I want to get her name and address so I can talk to her.
There is something of great importance I want to ask her.”
“It would be a good idea to telegraph on ahead to the conductor,” said
the railroad man. “The train dispatcher will do the telegraphing for
you. The conductor’s name is Jerry Simpson. The old woman didn’t rob
you, or anything like that, did she?”
“Oh, no!” laughed Mr. Bobbsey. “Nothing like that!” But he did not tell
why he wanted to find out who she was. There was no need of mentioning
Baby May.
“What are you going to do, Daddy?” asked Bert, as his father returned to
the automobile, the engine of which was still running.
Mr. Bobbsey told the children his plans, adding:
“While I am waiting for the train conductor to telegraph back to me,
I’ll make some inquiries around here to see if I can find out anything
about the old woman.”
“And shall we have dinner when we get back home?” asked Nan.
“Dinner! Good gracious! Here it is nearly noon!” exclaimed Mr. Bobbsey,
looking at his watch. “Well, we can get a lunch here while waiting for
an answer to my telegram. And I guess I’d better telephone your mother
to let her know we shall be delayed. This is the first chance I’ve had
to get on the trail of the strange old woman, and I don’t want to miss
it.”
Mr. Bobbsey sent a telegram to Miles Junction for Jerry Simpson,
conductor of the train, asking him to wire back the name and address of
the old woman in the faded shawl. She did not have the green umbrella
with her this time, and of course the big basket, in which Baby May had
been left, was at the Bobbsey home.
In his telegram Mr. Bobbsey asked the conductor to send word back in
care of the train dispatcher at Menton. This having been done, the
twins’ father began to make inquiries of railroad men and others about
the strange woman.
None of them knew her, and few of them had noticed her coming to the
station to take the train. So his questions did not bring him much
information.
“We must wait for an answer to the telegram,” said Mr. Bobbsey.
“And can we eat now?” asked Bert. “I’m mighty hungry.”
“I’m hungry, too,” added Nan.
“You certainly shall eat!” laughed their father, and he took them to a
restaurant.
They had to wait nearly an hour for the answer to come back from the
conductor, as the Miles Junction stop of the train was many miles away.
But finally, as the three sat in the station, waiting, the train
dispatcher came out of his little office, where a hundred clocks seemed
ticking. In his hand he held a paper.
“Are you Mr. Bobbsey?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied the twins’ father.
“Oh, yes, I remember you. You sent a message to Mr. Simpson on train
thirty-two. Well, here’s his answer.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “Any charge?”
“No charge.”
The dispatcher went back to his clicking instruments. Mr. Bobbsey read
the message to himself.
“What does it say, Daddy?” Bert ventured to ask.
“Will she come back and tell us about the baby?” Nan wanted to know.
“Will she take Baby May away from us?”
“This isn’t a message from the strange woman—it’s from the train
conductor,” answered Mr. Bobbsey. “It says that the old woman in the
faded shawl got off at Hankertown. Um! I thought the train didn’t stop
this side of Miles Junction, but it must have done so.”
“Where’s Hankertown?” asked Bert.
“About fifteen miles from here,” his father said. “Wait until I ask the
dispatcher about this.”
The dispatcher, who was also the ticket seller explained that sometimes
the train stopped at way stations, before reaching Miles Junction, in
case there were passengers to get off or on.
“And that’s what must have happened in this case,” the dispatcher gave
as his opinion. “The party you inquired about must have had a ticket to
Hankertown, and that’s why she got off there. Is there anything more I
can do for you?”
“Thank you—no,” answered Mr. Bobbsey. “Come, children,” he called to
Bert and Nan.
“Where are you going?” they asked him.
“I’m going to keep on after the little old lady. I must find her! We can
go to Hankertown by auto. It’s only fifteen miles.”
“It isn’t as far as that if you go by the back road,” the train
dispatcher told them. “It’s fifteen miles by railroad, about the same by
the main highway, but much less by the back road.”
“Is it a good road?” questioned Mr. Bobbsey.
“Fair,” answered the dispatcher. “You’ll make time if you take the back
road.”
“That’s what I’ll do, then,” said Mr. Bobbsey.
He had already telephoned to his wife, telling her that they had caught
sight of the strange woman who had deserted the baby.
“I’m going to make her tell the secret!” said Mr. Bobbsey.
“What about Nan and Bert?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey, over the wire.
“I’ll keep them with me,” their father replied. “They’ll be all
right—don’t worry. Are Flossie and Freddie all right?”
“Yes; only Freddie fell in a mud puddle and pulled Flossie in after him!
They’re sights, but that’s nothing new!”
“Is the baby all right?”
“Oh, yes, she’s a little darling. I almost hope we never have to give
her up—but of course we must do what is right.”
So it was that Mr. Bobbsey with Bert and Nan started for Hankertown in
the automobile, trying to arrive as soon as possible after the train had
left the strange, old woman there. But, as the train had gone on to
Miles Junction before the conductor received the telegram, the old woman
might have disappeared again.
“Do you think she lives in Hankertown?” asked Nan, as the automobile
dashed along the country road.
“She may,” answered Mr. Bobbsey. “Even if she doesn’t, some one there
will be sure to know her and we can find out about her from them. At
least I hope so.”
“I do, too,” murmured Nan. “But I love Baby May!”
“She’s awfully cute!” exclaimed Bert. “You ought to see her grab hold of
my nose! She holds on so tight!” And he laughed at the remembrance.
Mr. Bobbsey was driving the car along at as fast a pace as was safe, and
they were about half way to Hankertown when Bert noticed little jets of
vapor coming from the radiator.
“Look, Dad!” he exclaimed. “She’s steaming!”
“Whew!” whistled Mr. Bobbsey. “I’m out of water! Must stop and get some
right away! It won’t do to overheat the engine!”
He stopped the car, and at once a loud hissing was heard while from
beneath the car a big cloud of steam poured out.
“Oh! are we on fire?” screamed Nan.