had done him such good service in his time of need.
Frank stepped up on the coach platform and peered up and down the sidings near by. His rescuer was nowhere in sight. Frank was sorry for this. The boy had struck him as a hard-luck object. His manifest reluctance against being seen by the officer suggested something sinister about him.
Frank stood waiting for the return of the policeman, a vivid picture of his rescuer in his mind. The boy had worn a cap pulled far down over his eyes. He seemed young, yet Frank recalled that he wore a moustache.
"I'd like to give him something for saving me the loss of all that money," said Frank. "The poor fellow looked as if he needed it. Any trace of the man, sir?"
"No," answered the policeman, coming back from a fruitless search. "Better keep nearer the lights, young fellow. All kinds of rough characters hang around here, on the lookout for somebody to rob."
Frank walked with the policeman to the depot rotunda. He stayed outside, however. Once or twice he walked the whole breadth of the rotunda, peering down the passenger tracks and wishing he could find the boy who had beaten off the thief.
