ering, and he chose what appeared to him to be the
surest and quickest way. To be sure, he suffered not a little at the
thought of deserting his comrades, but his personal ambition and
selfishness helped him to determine to report on the following morning,
and to go out with the fast express behind him on the following night.
He tried not to think of the Brotherhood, and to fashion to himself the
glory of success, of fast runs with Blackwings, and future promotion.

CHAPTER TENTH

The night winds moaned among the empty freight cars. The arc lamps
hummed and sputtered, making the flying frost look like diamond dust
dropping from the grinding stars. Out of a shadowy alley a bent man
crept, crouching under the snow-hung eaves. Far down the track, at a
crossing, the man saw the flash of a helmet and the glint of brass
buttons, and dodged among the cars. The man had committed no crime
against the law, but he was willing to, and so avoided the silent
guardian of the peace, pacing his beat. Beyond the track he came to the
street door of a two-story building, struck a match, read the number on
the transom, and entered the hall. At the top of the first flight of
stairs a door stood open. Beneath a gas jet in the open room Dan Moran
sat reading a book. He had heard the unsteady footsteps on the stair,
but had not allowed them to disturb him. Now the prowler paused,
steadied himself against the door-jamb, coughed, hiccoughed, hello'd in
a whisper, and Moran looked up.

"Well, Greene," said Dan, "what brings you abroad on a night like this?"

"Business!" was the half-whispered reply, "Business, ol' man."

Now the rum-crazed rambler left the door, put a trembling hand on the
table in the centre of the room, glanced back toward the stairs, and
peered into the face of the old engineer. "We are betrayed!" he
whispered, leaning heavily upon the stand. His wrist shook violently,
causing the table to quiver. The smoking outfit upon the table made a
low, rumbling noise. "What's that?" he asked, glaring about.

Having satisfied himself that all was right he put both hands upon the
table, and gazing again into the face of Moran, repeated: "We are
betrayed. Cowels is goin' out with Blackwings on the Denver Limited
to-morrow night. The plumber told the foreman an hour ago--I heard 'im.
Least they think he's goin', but he ain't. He's goin' to--"

"Oh, Greene, you're drunk. Go home and have a good sleep."

"Home! Did you say home