nning, opened the
small gate, and followed Ned into the open.

Before they arrived at the vicinity of the accident Rad had got to the
switchboard. The electricity was shut out of the stockade wires.

Ned uttered another shout. He saw the writhing body of the shocked man
fall from the stockade. When he and the watchman got to the spot the
fellow lay upon his back, groaning and sobbing; but Ned saw at once
that he was more frightened than hurt.

"Well, you did it that time!" exclaimed the young financial manager.
"And I hope you got enough."

"You--you demons!" gasped the man. "I'll have the law on you--"

"Sure you will," cackled the watchman. "You had every right in the
world to try to cut those wires, of course, and get into the yard of
the works. Sure! The judge will believe you all right."

Ned was, meanwhile, staring closely at the fallen man. Tom had come
down from the locomotive and was close to the fence.

"Who is he?" demanded the inventor. "Not O'Malley?"

Ned stepped to the fence and whispered:

"It's the other fellow. The little chap with the Vandyke. He's dressed
like a tramp, but it's the same man."

"Is he badly hurt?" demanded Tom.

"His temper is, Boss," said the watchman callously. "And say! I know
this fellow. He works for the Blatz Detective Agency. I used to work
for those folks myself. His name is Myrick--Joe Myrick."

"Ned," said Tom sternly, "go to the office and call the police. I'll
make him tell why he was here. And I'll make the Blatz people explain,
too. Hullo! what's that?"

Ned had seized the rope he had seen in Myrick's hand, and from a patch
of weeds drew a two-gallon oil-can.

"What you got there, Ned?" repeated the young inventor.

"Whatever it is, I am going to be mighty easy with it. I think this
scoundrel was trying to get it over the fence and into the way of the
locomotive."

"You can't hang anything on me," said Myrick, suddenly. "I was just
climbing up to the top of the fence to get a squint at that contraption
you've built. You can't hang anything on me."

"He's evidently feeling better," said Tom, scornfully. "Nugent, don't
let him get away from you. Go call the police, Ned. And take care of
that can until we can find out what's in it."

Later, when the police had removed Joe Myrick and the mysterious can
had been deposited in a tub of water in the open lot until its contents
could be examined, Tom said to his chum:

"I was just working up some speed on