“Oh, the miser was probably trying to pull off one of his grand-stand plays,” commented another.  “Passes are pretty rare birds, nowadays, and I suppose he thought he could make a hit with the company by inquiring about this one.”

“And instead of that, he got hit himself.  Brown, in the despatcher’s office, told me the message Jenkins received from Chicago was red hot.”

From the remarks, Bob could see plainly that the officious conductor was not popular, and he was wondering whether or not he was expected to make any comment, when Hosmer said, his face suffused with a look of glee: 

“Well, the boys are going to put one over on the ’miser’.”

And, pausing aggravatingly, the freight conductor filled his pipe and lighted it.

His action produced the desired effect of tantalizing the brakemen, and they exclaimed eagerly: 

“Out with it, Hos’!  Tell us!  Let us in on it!”

Waiting a moment, to give his words greater emphasis, the conductor removed his pipe from his mouth, and said: 

“All the boys are going up to Sweeney’s, order the swellest meal he can put up, and send the bill to Jenkins!”

“Whoopee!  Great!  I wish we were in on it!” exclaimed the brakemen in unison.

“Is that quite fair?” asked Bob, having hoped that his departure would put an end to Tom’s plan.

“Fair?  Sure, it’s fair!” laughed Hosmer.  “Anyhow, I don’t see why you should care.  He treated you mighty mean, taking your pass away from you.”

As the other trainmen agreed with the opinion of their conductor, Bob made no further objection, contenting himself with the thought that he could hardly be held responsible.

During the conversation, the long freight train had got under way, and while the boy found many novel things to hold his attention, the brakemen amused themselves speculating on the effect the joke would have upon Jenkins.

As the engine whistled for a station, Hosmer said to Bob: 

“How’d you like to ride on the engine till the next stop?”

“My, but it would be fun!” replied Bob, his eyes sparkling with delight.

“Then come on!  I’ll take you up and fix it with Barney, the engineer.”

As the train stopped, with a loud creaking of brakes and groaning of wheels, Bob jumped from the caboose and accompanied the burly conductor to the head of the train.

“Hey, Barney!” he hailed the engineer.

The man thus addressed poked a coal-begrimed face from the window of his cab, asking: 

“What is it—­wait orders?”

“Not this time.  I’ve got a boy here—­Bob Chester—­who wants to ride with you to the next station.”

For a moment the engineer scowled, and Bob feared he would refuse.  But quickly the grimy face broke into a smile, as Barney asked: 

“Is that the kid with a pass Jenkins left?”

“Yes.”

“Sure he can ride with me.  Help him up.”