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The fog had now come up thinly above the road.

It seemed to me that we had scarcely occupied the time it required to get into the car when Mooney returned. He seemed to appear as an apparition out of the mist. He got at once into the car and spoke to White.

“Here’s the engineer’s cap,” he said. “I got it out of the box under the seat in the engine.” He put it on.

“Now swing her round and step on her.”

He meant for White to turn the car and go back at the greatest speed he could. The man, as I have said, was an expert with a motor. He was only a moment at the turn and we were presently racing along the road.

I did not understand what Mooney meant.

We all wore the blue jackets and overalls in which we had held up the train. It was the distinguishing uniform of the train crew, and now with Mooney wearing the engineer’s cap it seemed to me that we had simply marked ourselves for certain identification.

But it was the reflection of inexperience.

Mooney, when he looked at the clock, foresaw what we were certain to meet on the road and he skillfully prepared for it. Two miles down the road was the station.