118 COSMIC ASTRONAUTS
The moment they started picking their way across the maze of tracks, a bobbing light moved toward them. It was a lantern carried by the yard’s night watchman.
“You two lookin’ fer somebody?” he called out.
Tom explained why they had come and asked the watchman if he knew anything about a man named Olin Whaley.
“Whaley … Olin Whaley … Hmm.” The elderly yardman shoved back his cap, scratched his head, and pulled thoughtfully on the pipe he was smoking.
“Seems like I’ve heerd that name before, but I don’t recollect jest when or where, offhand.”
Tom described Whaley from Felix Wong’s description. The watchman only shook his head.
“Nope. ‘Fraid that don’t ring no bells with me. ‘Course there’s lots of people come around the yard, off and on, ‘specially during the day-workmen, loafers, drifters, train crews, hobos. Company brass shows up sometimes, too, and the factory fellers who ship on these lines. Hard to keep track of ‘em all.”
“How about the tower?” Bud asked. “Anyone up there who might know?”
Again the watchman shook his head. “No one on duty here but me. I jest use the tower at night fer a place to sit down or phone in reports.”
After another puff on his pipe, he added, “If I THE EAVESDROPPER 119
was you fellers, I’d come back during the day and inquire around. Might talk to the railroad detectives, too. Mebbe they could help you.”
The boys were about to thank the watchman and leave when Tom said in an excited whisper, “Hey! I saw someone! Over by that string of boxcars! He was eavesdropping on us!”
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