Little did he guess how soon his wish was to be gratified.

“Then we may as well keep on until we get to the next town,” said Mark.

They walked on for some distance, their thoughts busy with their recent experiences, when they suddenly heard a noise at a distance.

“Sounds like a freight train,” said Mark.

“So it is!  Come on!  Let’s get aboard!  Riding is easier than walking any day!  Hurry up!”

And then the two boys broke into a run toward a slow moving freight on a track that crossed the country road a short distance away from them.

“Look out that you don’t get under the wheels!” cautioned Jack to his companion.

“Oh, I’m used to jumping the cars,” replied Mark, as he ran quickly up beside the rails.

The two boys reached the track along which the freight train was bumping and clicking.  It was a long outfit, with many box, flat and gondola cars.

“Try for a gondola!” suggested Jack, indicating the cars with sides about five feet high, and open at the top.

The next instant he had swung up on a car, thrusting his foot in the iron step, and grasping the handle in a firm grip.  Jack grabbed the next car, and landed safely aboard.  Then, running forward, and clambering over to where his companion was, Jack pulled Mark down on the bottom of the gondola.

“No use letting a brakeman see you if you can help it,” he explained.

CHAPTER II

THE RUNAWAY TRAIN

On went the train, carrying the boys to a destination unknown to them.  All they cared for was that they were going away from Freeport and its vindictive constable.

“How long have your folks been dead?” asked Jack, after he had settled himself comfortably in a corner.

“About five years,” was the answer.  “Father and mother went about the same time.  They were poor, and I had no brothers or sisters.  When I was all alone,” the boy’s voice trembled a bit, “I didn’t know what to do.  They wanted to send me to the poor-house, but I ran away.  Then, after knocking about a bit, I got the job with the traction engine man, until he used me so I couldn’t stand it.”

“That’s about my case,” said Jack.  “I had a brother, and he ran away before my folks died.  I guess they felt bad about him.  Anyhow, mother used to cry an awful lot.  When I was left all alone I was taken care of by some poor folks, who kept me as long as they could.  Then I had to shift for myself.  I had a good many jobs, and then I thought I’d like to be a farmer.  I was sent to a place but the man wasn’t very kind.  He whipped me because I made a mistake and pulled up an onion instead of a weed.  Then he beat me because I gave the horse too many oats.  He never told me how much to give.  So I ran away, and I’m glad of it.  I’ve been cold and hungry lots of times since, but I haven’t been whipped.”