that Teddy Tucker was not on board. Then the lad went through
the train in the hope that his companion had gotten on the
wrong car. There was no trace of Teddy.

In the meantime Teddy had slowly clambered to the roof of the
stock car, where he stretched himself out, clinging to the
running board, with the big car swaying beneath him. The wind
seemed, up there, to be blowing a perfect gale, and it was all
the boy could do to hold on. After a while he saw a light
approaching him. The light was in the hands of a brakeman who
was working his way over the train toward the caboose.

He soon came up to where Teddy was lying. There he stopped.

"Well, youngster, what are you doing here?" he demanded, flashing
his light into the face of the uncomfortable Teddy.

"Trying to ride."

"I suppose you know you are breaking the law and that I'll have
to turn you over to a policeman or a constable the next town we
stop at?"

"Nothing of the sort! What do you take me for? Think I'm some
kind of tramp?" objected the lad. "Go on and let me alone."

The brakeman looked closer. He observed that the boy was soaking
wet, but that, despite this, he was well dressed.

"What are you, if not a tramp?"