Then the taller of the two
started on a dog-trot along the train looking for an empty. He
found one four cars away and ran back again. The two lifted the
unconscious man into the empty box-car, and, getting in
themselves, stayed for three or four minutes. When they came
out, after closing the sliding door, they cut up over the
railroad embankment toward the town. One, the short one, seemed
to limp.
The tramp was wary. He waited for ten minutes or so. Some women
came down a path to the road and inspected the automobile. When
they had gone, he crawled into the box-car and closed the door
again. Then he lighted a match. The figure of a man,
unconscious, gagged, and with his hands tied, lay far at the end.
The tramp lost no time; he went through his pockets, found a
little money and the cuff-links, and took them. Then he
loosened the gag--it had been cruelly tight--and went his way,
again closing the door of the box-car. Outside on the road he
found the watch. He got on the fast freight east, some time
after, and rode into the city. He had sold the cuff-links, but
on offering the watch to Alex he had been "copped."
The story, with its cold recital of villainy, was done. I hardly
knew if I were more anxious, or less. That it was Halsey, there
could be no doubt. How badly he was hurt, how far he had been
carried, were the questions that demanded immediate answer. But
it was the first real information we had had; my boy had not been
murdered outright.
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