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thought to himself. With the cash in his backpack, the boys had more money than they could count—easily enough to buy bus or even airplane tickets, but Jake rejected that option. With or without tickets, the people at a bus station or airport weren’t just going to let two boys travel by themselves.
    Jake considered hitchhiking, but that was too visible. Anyone could spot them out on a road and report them to the police. He’d also heard horror stories of bad people picking up children and kidnapping them—or worse.
    Then Jake thought of another option.
    â€œSo?” Taylor pressed.
    â€œLet’s head to the rail yards.”
    â€œWe’re gonna ride a freight?” Confusion filled Taylor’s voice.
    â€œPlenty of other people have done it,” Jake said, thinking about all the books he’d read where runaways and outlaws had hopped freight trains.
    â€œI guess so. . . .”
    Jake just hoped that he’d given them enough of a head start on the authorities waiting at their front door. The rail yards lay less than half a mile from their house, and the boys and Cody quickly covered the distance. They followed the dirt track through the jungle, on to an exposed clearing, and back into a brushy strip of trees. There they found a trail that led them to a chain-link fence. They halted. On the other side of the fence, a dozen parallel rail sidings filled an area larger than ten football fields. Freight trains were parked on some of the tracks, but on one, a long train loaded with coal slowly rumbled out of the yard.
    â€œMan, there’re so many,” Taylor said. “Which one are we gonna take?”
    â€œBeats me.”
    From the books he’d read, Jake knew that some freight cars were more comfortable than others. He spotted some filled with coal that were clearly no good. On several of the other trains, however, he could see regular enclosed freight cars with open doors. They looked empty from where he, Taylor, and Cody squatted.
    â€œHow do we know which way they’re goin’?” Taylor asked.
    â€œWill you be quiet and let me think?” Jake said, but Taylor’s question was a good one.
    Wyoming, that’s west, Jake reasoned. It’s not going to do us any good to catch a train heading to Maine or Florida—not if we want to find Dad.
    He looked at the afternoon sun and saw that it struggled to shine through the clouds to his left.
    That means that the rail yards run north–south.
    â€œC’mon,” he told Taylor. “Let’s climb the fence.”
    The two boys tossed their packs over the fence and scrambled after them. As soon as he saw what they were doing, Cody crawled under a shallow depression to join them.
    â€œHurry,” Jake called, and headed off across the sets of tracks.
    â€œSo . . . which one?” Taylor asked, trotting after him.
    â€œI’m not sure, but keep an eye out for guards. They don’t like people riding the rails.”
    The trio reached the first train and ran along it. Jake saw that some of the rail cars were filled with grain.
    Grain grows out West, he thought. So that train’s probably heading in the opposite direction—not what we want.
    They crossed between two rail cars to the next train.
    â€œThere’s an open car!” Taylor told him. Jake followed his brother’s gesture to see a pale white metal car covered withgraffiti, and they began trotting toward it. They stopped in front of the open door. Inside, the car was empty, the floor covered only by dirty plywood.
    Jake nodded. “This could work.”
    However, as he wandered along the track, trying to work out which way the train was headed, he heard a crunching sound on the gravel below. Jake flushed with panic and stopped dead in his tracks. Stepping out from between two giant cars, a surprised-looking guard with an eager Doberman emerged in front of him. Jake doubled back, eyes wide