fter his three days indoors made him sleepy
at last, and he was glad to discover behind the temporary abode of a
railway navvy a little rough wood hut, where, with a friendly dog for
company, and some straw for a couch, he was soon fast asleep.

Tom was dreaming. He heard a babel of voices fierce and angry, and was
striving very hard to hear what they were saying; but, though the voices
seemed loud, he could not distinguish one word from another, and in
trying to do so he awoke. The voices continued, but they were not loud
at all, though rough and angry. They came from the navvy shelter, and
Tom could hear plainly every word. He was about to move away when he
heard his father's name mentioned, qualified with expressions of hatred.
Plainly it was right that he should hear what these men had to say about
his father, so Tom crouched nearer the wall of the hut and listened. His
blue eyes grew big and round, and his face filled with horror.

Tom knew that the navvies at work in the district were not regular
workmen, but a very rough set. A gang of them had been almost a terror
to the neighbourhood, and Tom's father had been foremost in bringing the
guilty ones to justice. Three of their friends were in the hut, one with
a revolver. They had learned from a workman that Mr. M'Calmont was to
return from Greenhurst that evening, and they were discussing the spot
where they could best waylay and shoot him. 'We won't kill him, only
damage him a bit,' were the last words Tom heard as he crept from his
hiding-place and made his way quietly into the wood.

Tom's fear began to give way to excitement. He had an adventure at last,
and all to himself. To go home for help would be no use and would only
terrify his mother. The setting sun showed that the evening was
advancing, and his father would soon be coming, so that the only thing
was to go and hide near the spot where the men had planned to wait. This
was where two roads merged into one, at the bottom of a steep hill
overhung with trees. Mr. M'Calmont might come by either of the two
roads--it would depend on whether he wished to go into Barton or not.

Tom made his way to his post as quickly as possible, and found himself a
hiding-place in a hole beneath the hedge, where only a boy could
wriggle, and where he hoped that in the dusk he would be unobserved. His
post was just the point where the road forked; the men had planned to
stand some yards from that point, where it was more sh