CHAPTER 2CONSCIOUSNESS returned slowly to Powell. He felt the uneven jolting of the moving train and then managed somehow to open his heavy eyelids. Joel Zee-man was bending over him, his thin face dull with worry.
“Sure, Major, I thought we’d lost you. They beat the top of your head to pulp.”
Powell closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on Zeeman’s words. Then he remembered. “The boy,” he whispered. “What happened to the boy?”
“They stole him,” said Zeeman. “There were five of them and they set lanterns at West Bridge. Johnson figured that the bridge must have gone out and stopped.”
Powell tried to keep his eyes open and failed. He tried to sit up. His head spun, and then he sank back into semi-consciousness on the piles of blankets at the end of the baggage car.
The next he knew co
