lock."

"Where did you go to?"

"What do you want to know for?" asked the boy, curiously.

"He is my brother and I want to find him, just as quickly as I can."

"Oh! Well, he wanted to catch a train. He just got it, too."

"What train?"

"The Western Express. He wouldn't have got it only it was about ten
minutes late. He got aboard just as she started out from the depot."

Sam's heart sank at this news. Tom on the Western Express! For what
place had he been bound?

"Did he say where he was going?" put in Songbird.

"To Chicago, I think. He talked to himself a good deal. Said
something about Chicago and St. Paul and Seattle. I asked him if he
was on business and he said he was going to pick up nuggets of gold. I
guess he was poking fun at me," went on the boy, sheepishly. "But he
paid me two dollars for driving him over," he added, with satisfaction.

"Did he have much money?" asked Sam. "Tell me all you know. I might
as well tell tell you, that was my brother, and he is sick in his head,
so that he doesn't know just what he is doing."

"Say, I thought he was queer--he had such a look out of his eyes, and
talked so much to himself. He only had about ten dollars in bills.
But he said he had some gold in his pocket, in a box. He didn't show
it, though. He said he was on Bill Stiger's trail."

"Bill Stiger's trail," murmured Sam, and his mind went back to the
night Tom had gone to see the moving picture drama entitled "Lost in
the Ice Fields of Alaska." Bill Stiger had been the name of the
villain in the play--the rascal who had robbed the hero of his golden
nuggets.

"He didn't have no ticket," went on the boy. "So he could get off the
train anywhere."

"We must hurry to Morton's Junction and see if we can find out anything
more," said Sam to his college chum. His face showed plainly how
greatly he was worried.

The boy told them how to go and they made the best time possible,
arriving at the Junction some time after noon. They found the depot
master on the platform.

"I remember the fellow you mean," he said. "He got on the last car.
Dunkirt, the conductor, helped him up. But I don't know where he went
to. Maybe Dunkirt could tell you, when he gets back here."

"When will he be back?"

"He's off to-day and he'll be here on the one-thirty train. You can
talk to him when he comes in, if you want to."

"I'll do it," answered Sam.

He and Songbird had an even hour to wait, and