Then the two shot down to the platform level and made their way toward
Gate E.
CHAPTER XI
PENDLETON IS VASTLY ENLIGHTENED
The Hammondsville local was taking on its passengers. It was a sooty
train, made up of three coaches and a combination baggage and smoking
car. The gateman pointed out its conductor, inside, and the two
approached him.
He was a spare, elderly man with a wrinkled, shrewd face, and a short,
pointed manner of speech.
"Oh, the General Passenger Agent sent you?" said he, examining them.
"All right. What's wanted?"
"Your train stops at a station called Cordova, does it not?"
"It stops at every station on the run. Cordova's one of them."
"There is an institution at Cordova, I believe?"
"For deaf and dumb kids--yes."
"Of course some of the people from there ride in and out with you at
times."
"I don't get many of the youngsters. But the folks that run the place
often come to the city."
"You are acquainted with them, of course. I mean in the way that
local conductors come to be acquainted with their regular riders."
Purvis grinned.
"Say," said he. "It's hard to get acquainted with some of them asylum
people. There's only a couple of them that can talk!"
"I see.
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