Chapter XVIII
On the Hendrickton & Pas Alos
The transcontinental was delayed three hours by the strewn
wreckage of the rear of Number Forty-eight. When she went on the
two young fellows from Shopton gazed anxiously at the Hercules
0001, which stood between two gondolas in the forward end of the
freight train.
"Just by luck nothing happened to it," muttered Ned.
"Just luck," agreed Tom Swift. "It was a shock to me to learn
that Andy O'Malley was right there on the spot when the accident
happened."
"And his employer, too," added Ned. "For we must admit that Mr.
Montagne Lewis is the man who sicked O'Malley on to you." "True."
"And they were both in the accommodation that was sideswiped by
the derailed cars of Number Forty-eight."
"That, likewise is a fact," said Tom, nodding quickly.
"But what puzzles me, as it seemed to puzzle Lewis, more than
anything else, is what became of O'Malley?"
"I guess I can see through that knot-hole," Tom rejoined.
"Yes?"
"I bet O'Malley got a squint at me--or perhaps at you--as we
walked up the track from this coach, and he lit out in a hurry.
There stood the Three-Oughts-One, and there were we. He knew we
would raise a hue and cry if we saw him in the vicinity of my
locomotive."
"I bet that's the truth, Tom."
"I know it. He didn't even have time to warn his employer. By
the way, Ned, what a brute that Montagne Lewis looks to be.
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