a clump of bushes. Below them, a hundred feet
down, John made out the railroad track. To the left they looked down
into a deep gully. On the other side of the track was a deep ravine,
dropping abruptly from the roadbed.

"They'll wait down there," the detective explained, pointing to the
gully. "He'll put the derailer on the track so as to throw the cars over
to the other side in that ditch."

He squatted down behind the clump of bushes and the others followed his
example. John looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to eight.

"It's due here at 8:18," said the detective.

"I'd give ten years of my bright young life for a cigarette," said
Brennan, sighing heavily.

The detective produced a thick moist plug of chewing tobacco, gnawed at
the corners.

"Here you are," he said, offering it to the sufferer.

"Don't, don't," said Brennan, waving it aside. "I'd swallow it sure."

John felt his heart thumping against his ribs. Try as he might he could
not stop himself from breathing in quick, short little gasps. This
detective and his men were so certain about things. How did they know
but something might have gone wrong? Perhaps Gibson and "Red Mike" were
"shooting it out" along the road somewhere now. He looked again at his
watch. It was three minutes to eight. Only seven minutes had passed
since they arrived. Incredulous he held the watch to his ear. It was
ticking regularly.

Benton pulled himself on his elbows to John's side.

"You may talk o' gin and beer,
When you're quartered safe out 'ere--"

he began.

"That's enough of that," ordered Brennan, and Benton's chant stopped.

The detective raised himself to his knees and held his head high,
listening. The roar of a motor being raced as it was switched off came
to their ears.

"That's them," said the detective. "That was Gibson's signal. He was
driving and he raced his engine to let us know when they got here."

They waited for years, it seemed to John, until two dark figures,
scarcely discernible came down the tracks toward them and turned into
the gully. He saw that Gibson and "Red Mike" were carrying something
heavy between them and that "Red Mike" also carried a short-handled
sledge hammer.

He strained his eyes trying to follow the figures into the darker
shadows of the gully from which they emerged shortly.

"That's the derailer they're carrying--they're going to slap it on the
rail," breathed the detective.

They could hear "Red