CHAPTER 22 SALT’S MISSING CAMERA

From the suitcase, Penny lifted Salt’s camera. With a cry of pleasure, he snatched it from her hand and eagerly examined it.

“Is it damaged in any way?” Penny asked.

“It doesn’t seem to be. So the professor had it all the time just as we thought!”

“And here are the plates I tossed into the car the night of the explosion!” Penny added, burrowing deeper into the pile of clothing. “They’re probably ruined by now.”

“Maybe not,” said Salt, examining them. “The professor may have thought they were unexposed plates and kept them for use later on.”

“Anyway, it was crooked of him to try to keep the camera,” Penny declared. “Though I suppose such a small theft doesn’t amount to much in comparison to the trick he nearly played on Mr. Johnson.”

“It matters to me,” the photographer chuckled. “Am I glad to get this camera back! The plates won’t do us any good now they are outdated, but I’ll take them along anyhow. I’m curious to see if they would have shown anything of significance.”

“By all means develop them,” urged Mr. Parker. “Anything else in the suitcase?”

In a pocket of the case Penny found several letters from Mr. Johnson which she gave to her father. Knowing they would be valuable in establishing a case of attempted fraud against the professor, he kept them.

“I wish Webb Nelson hadn’t managed to escape,” Penny remarked as the trio went downstairs again. “He must have started for Newhall, perhaps to catch a train.”

“Any due at this time?” her father asked thoughtfully.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Tell you what,” Mr. Parker proposed. “We can do nothing more here. We may as well drive to the village again and press an inquiry for Webb.”

Once more the car with Salt as driver careened over the bumpy country road to Newhall. They reached the town without sighting anyone who resembled the professor’s helper.

“Drive to the station,” Mr. Parker instructed Salt. “There’s an outside chance Webb went there.”

The depot was a drab little red building, deserted except for a sleepy-eyed station agent who told them there was no passenger train scheduled to leave Newhall before six o’clock the next morning.

“Any freight trains?” Mr. Parker inquired.

“A couple are overdue,” the agent said. “No. 32 from the east, and No. 20, also westbound. No. 20’s just coming into the block.”

Although it seemed unlikely Webb would take a freight train out of town, Mr. Parker, Salt and Penny, decided to wait for it to come in. They went outside, standing in the shadow of the station.

“No sign of anyone around,” Salt declared, looking carefully about. “We may as well go back to the lake.”

“Let’s wait,” Penny urged.

No. 20 rumbled into the station, stirring up a whirlwind of dust and cinders. A trainman with a lantern over his arm, came into the station to get his orders from the agent. He chatted a moment, then went out again, swinging aboard one of the cars. A moment later, the train began to move.

“Shall we go?” Mr. Parker said impatiently.

Penny buttoned her coat as she stepped beyond the protection of the building, for the night air was cold and penetrated her thin clothing. Treading along behind her father and Salt to the car, she started to climb in, when her attention riveted upon a lone figure some distance from the railroad station. A man, who resembled Webb Nelson in build, had emerged from behind a tool shed, and stood close to the tracks watching the slowly moving freight.

Then he ran along beside the train and suddenly leaped into one of the empty box cars.

“Dad! Salt!” she exclaimed. “I just saw someone leap into one of those cars! I’m sure it was Webb!”

“Where?” demanded her father. “Which car?”

“The yellow one. Oh, he’ll get away unless we can have him arrested at the next town!”

“He won’t escape if I can stop him!” Salt muttered.

Racing across the platform, he waited for the car Penny had indicated. Although the train was moving faster now, he leaped and swung himself to a sitting position in the open doorway.

“Look out! Look out!” Penny screamed in warning.

Behind Salt, the man who had taken refuge in the car, moved stealthily toward him, obviously intending to push him off the train. But the photographer knew what to expect and was prepared.

He whirled suddenly and scrambled to his feet. His attacker caught him slightly off balance, and they went down together, rolling over and over on the straw littered floor.

Worried for Salt, Penny and Mr. Parker ran along beside the train. The publisher tried to leap aboard to help the photographer, but lacking the younger man’s athletic prowess, he could not make it. Already winded, he began to fall behind.

Penny kept on and managed to grasp the doorway of the car, but she instantly realized she could not swing herself through the opening. The train now was moving rapidly and gaining speed each moment.

Inside the box car, the two men were rolling over and over, each fighting desperately to gain the advantage. Penny could not see what was happening. Forced by the speed of the train, she let go her hold. Her feet were swept from beneath her, and she stumbled and fell along the right of way.

Before she could scramble to her feet, her father had caught up with her.

“Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously.

Penny’s knees were skinned but the injury was so trifling she did not speak of it. Her one concern was for Salt.

“Oh, Dad,” she said, grasping his arm nervously. “What are we going to do? That brute may kill him!”

Mr. Parker shared Penny’s concern, but he said calmly: “There’s only one thing we can do now. We’ll have the station agent send a wire to the next station. Police will meet the train and take Webb into custody.”

“He may not be on the train by the time it reaches the next town! Oh, Dad, Salt may be half killed before then!”

Penny and her father stared after the departing freight. The engineer whistled for a high trestle spanning a narrow river, and the train began to rumble over it.

Suddenly Penny stiffened into alert attention. In the doorway of the open boxcar, she could see the two struggling men. Mr. Parker, too, became tense.

As they watched fearfully, one of the men was pushed from the car. He rolled over and over down a steep embankment toward the creek bed.

The other man, poised in the doorway an instant, then just before the car reached the trestle, leaped.