Frank Warner - Bobby Blake on the School Nine - or, The Champions of the Monatook Lake League

They had reached the outskirts of a village now and the walking had become easier. They quickened their pace and soon came in sight of the station.

“There it is!” cried Fred, and the boys broke into a run.

As Bobby’s watch had been the only one in the party, the boys had not been able to keep track of the time during the latter part of their journey, and they were a little fearful that they might be late for their train.

They were relieved therefore to learn they were in plenty of time. The train was not regularly due for half an hour, and owing to the snowstorm it would probably be an hour or more behind time.

The station agent at Roseville, as the town was named, had charge of the telegraph office as well. He was a kindly man and listened with the greatest sympathy to the boys’ story. His indignation at the robbers was hot, and he promised to put the constable on their trail at once.

“It’s a beastly outrage,” he stormed. “That old deserted shack has been too handy for fellows of that kind. They make it a regular hang-out. We’ll clean out the gang and burn the place to the ground. I’ve got to stay here now until after the train leaves, but as soon as it’s gone, I’ll get busy.”

He assured them that he would send on the telegram to be paid for at the other end, and the boys, possessing themselves of some blanks, withdrew to a quiet corner to prepare the message.

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