“This comes in just right,” observed Darrel to Dick.  “Hi there, Harry Oswald.  Give us a lift to Oak Run, will you?”

“Certainly, Mr. Darrel,” answered the grocery boy, and brought his store wagon to a stop.  The farmer leaped to the seat, and Dick followed.

On the way Harry Oswald was made acquainted with the situation, and he drove along with all possible speed.  They were just entering the outskirts of Oak Run when the whistle of a locomotive was heard.

“That’s the down train for Middletown cried Joel Darrel.  “Hurry up!”

The horse was whipped up, and they swept along to the depot at a speed which made the constable of the town shake his fist at Harry and threaten to arrest him for fast driving.

“Too late!”

The words came from Dick, and he was right.  Before the depot was reached the long train had pulled out.  Soon it was lost to sight in the distance.

The thief was on it; and his escape, for the time being, was now assured.

CHAPTER IV

THE LAST DAY AT THE FARM

“What does this mean?”

It was Gilbert Ponsberry, the chief constable of Oak Run, who spoke, as he strode up to the grocery wagon, all out of breath.

“Hullo, Ponsberry, you are just the man we want to see!” cried Joel Darrel.  “Did you notice who boarded that train?”

“No; I wasn’t at the depot.  Anything wrong?”

“I have been robbed of a gold watch and chain,” answered Dick, and related the particulars.

“Gee shoo!  No wonder you drove fast,” ejaculated the constable.  “I would have done so myself.  How did that fellow look?”

As well as he was able, Dick gave a description of the thief.

“I saw that tramp yesterday,” said the constable, when he had finished.  “He was in the depot, talking to a tall, thin man.  I remember him well, for he and the other fellow were quarreling.  I hung around rather expecting a fight.  But it didn’t come.”

“You haven’t seen the thief since yesterday?”

“No.”

“You remember the tall, thin man he was with?”

“Oh, sure, for he had a scar on his chin that looked like a knife cut.”

“Is he anywhere around?”

“I haven’t seen him since.  Let us take a walk around, and we can ask Ricks the station master about this.”

“We had better ask Mr. Ricks first,” said Dick.

All hands, even to the grocery boy, hunted up the station master, an elderly fellow who was well known for his unsociable disposition.

“Don’t know anything about any thief,” he snapped, after hearing the story.  “I mind my own business.”

“But he may have taken the train,” pleaded Dick.  It made his heart sink to think that the watch, that precious memento from his, father, might be gone forever.

“Well, if he did, you had better go after him —­ or telegraph to Middletown,” was the short answer, and then the station master turned away.