ealized that the darkness had been a part of "Red Mike's"
nefarious plotting. He turned to Brennan, whose tensely set face was
lighted for a fraction of a second by the accelerated burning of his
cigarette as he took a deep inhale.

"I don't like to be a 'Gloomy Gus,'" Brennan said, "but what was it
General Wolfe said before the battle on the 'Plains of Abraham' at
Quebec--'The paths of glory lead but to the grave'--wasn't it?"

John almost resented the inference of "glory seeking" by Gibson, and
Brennan's cool way of suggesting that the commissioner might meet his
death. Brennan seemed to sense his unspoken exception to what he had
said.

"Oh, don't misunderstand me," he said. "It only popped into my head, I
don't know why. And Wolfe, you know, was a braggart who made good. He
died on the 'Plains of Abraham' after distributing Montcalm's army of
Frenchmen all over the landscape."

John blamed Brennan's cynicism for preventing him from viewing Gibson as
he did.

At a word from the man beside him the driver of their car slowed down
the machine and brought it to a stop. They could hear the creaking of
brakes on the other machines following them as they stopped close
behind.

"Here we are," said the man, leaving the front seat of the car. "Duck
that cigarette, Brennan. Remember, no smoking or talking. You boys
follow me and do what I tell you. One misstep and you're liable to get
the commissioner killed. And you"--he turned to Benton--"don't you try
shooting any pictures until Mr. Gibson gives the word, understand?"

John counted fourteen men from the two other machines. They walked
silently along a dusty, narrow path breaking off from the road until
they reached a point where the steep slope of a hill confronted them.

"Now, boys, everyone understands what is to be done?" asked the man from
the automobile that had carried the reporters and who John realized was
in command.

The men nodded.

"Then scatter out the way we've planned it and remember, we close in on
them when Gibson gives the signal, not before."

A queer, nervous feeling gripped the pit of John's stomach as he
followed with Benton and Brennan behind the man who led them up the hill
as the others branched out in pairs through the brush, spreading out in
a semi-circle.

"They each have their stations," the man told Brennan. "They know what
to do."

Reaching the crest of the hill they swung down the embankment to their
right and stopped behind