“Hello!  So you are following us up, are you?” said the man who had handled the gun.  But he smiled as he spoke, because he saw that the boys carried dresssuit cases and were equipped for traveling.

“Have you taken your picture of the railroad station yet?” questioned Tom.

“We’ve had one scene in front of the ticket office,” returned the man.  “But our main scene we shall pull off when the train comes in—­ or rather, when it pulls out.”

“Perhaps you’ll want us in it, after all,” broke in Sam.

“See here!  If you fellows want to get in this picture, just say so and I guess I can arrange it,” said the man who had handled the megaphone in the scene on the river, and who was, evidently, the director of the company.

“That depends on what you want us to do,” declared Tom.

“Oh, you won’t have much to do.  You see, it’s like this,” went on the manager.  “This man who did the shooting wants to escape.  He runs up to the railroad station here and buys his ticket—­ we have that part of it already.  Then he is supposed to be in hiding behind yonder freighthouse.  When the train comes in, he waits for all other passengers to get on board, then, as the train pulls out, he rushes forward and catches on the last car.  At the same time one of the other fellows rushes out as if to catch him, but he is too late.  Now, if you want to get into the scene, you get on the train just before she starts and stand on the back platform.”

“Let’s do it, Tom; it will be quite a lark!” exclaimed Sam.

“I’m willing,” answered his brother; and so the matter was arranged.  Then the boys hurried into the ticket office, to get their tickets to New York.

In the office they found old man Ricks, the station agent, grumbling to himself.

“Wot ye want?” he demanded, sourly, as he looked at the Rovers.

“Two tickets to New York, Mr. Ricks,” returned Tom.  “What’s the matter?”

“Wot’s the matter, huh?  A whole lot, I should say!” declared old Ricks, as he began to make out the tickets.  “A lot o’ them movin’ picter fellers been in here cuttin’ up like mad.”

“What did they do?” asked Sam, curiously.

“Huh! what didn’t they do?” retorted the station master.  “Come in here, an’ knocked over a box an’ a basket, rushed up to the winder, an’ the next thing I knew, he had planked down a lot o’ money, an’ when I stuck my head out the winder here, that feller pretended to grab up a ticket wot I didn’t give him at all, an’ took up his money and dusted out the door.  At the same time while this was goin’ on, ’nother feller had a light turned on this here winder wot nearly blinded me, and the feller with that funny lookin’ camera was a-turnin’ the crank to beat the cars!”

“They were only taking a moving picture, Mr. Ricks,” declared Sam.  “You shouldn’t object to that.”

“Huh!  I ain’t hired by the railroad company to get in no movin’ picter,” growled the station master.  “I’m here to ’tend to the railroad business, and nothin’ else.”