"Do you suppose we'll ever find the owner?" asked Mollie.
"Of course we will!" exclaimed Betty. "It is only a question of time."
Once or twice Amy looked back down the railroad track, and Grace,
noticing this, in the intervals of eating chocolate, finally asked:
"What is it, Amy?"
"That man," replied the quiet girl. "He's been following us for
some time."
"Following us!" cried Betty. "What do you mean?"
"I mean walking along the railroad track back of us."
"Well, that may not mean he is following us. Probably he wants to get
somewhere, and the track is the shortest route."
"He's looking down as though searching for something," said Mollie.
"Maybe he's a track-walker," suggested Amy.
"No, he isn't dressed like that," asserted Betty. She turned and looked
at the man. He seemed young, and had a clean-shaven face. He paid no
attention to the girls, but walked on, with head bent down.
"We must soon stop for lunch," proposed Mollie. "I have not left it
behind this time," and she held out the small suitcase that contained the
provisions put up that morning. "I'm just dying for a cup of chocolate!"
"We will eat soon," said Betty. "There's a nice place, just beyond that
trestle," and she pointed to a railroad bridge that crossed a small but
deep stream, the highway passing over it by another and lower structure.
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