ng was a considerable strain, and he soon began
to grow tired. He had some bread and fruit and a whisky and soda, and
though he would have given a good deal for a smoke, he felt greatly
refreshed.

The work kept on without intermission until one o'clock, when the men
knocked off for dinner. At two they began again, and worked steadily all
through the afternoon until past seven. During all that time only
two incidents, both trifling, occurred to relieve the monotony of
the proceedings. Early in the forenoon Bulla appeared, and under his
instructions the end of the flexible hose from the crude oil tank was
carried aboard and connected by a union to a pipe on the lower deck. A
wheel valve at the tank was turned, and Merriman could see the hose move
and stiffen as the oil began to flow through it. An hour later the valve
was turned off, the hose relaxed, the union was uncoupled and the hose,
dripping black oil, was carried back and left in its former place on the
wharf. The second incident was that about three o'clock Captain Beamish
and Bulla left the ship together and went out through the shed.

Merriman was now horribly tired, and his head ached intolerably from
the strain and the air of the barrel, which had by this time become
very impure. But he reflected that now when the men had left was the
opportunity of the conspirators. The time for which he had waited was
approaching, and he nerved himself to resist the drowsiness which was
stealing over him and which threatened the success of his vigil.

But hour after hour slowly dragged past and nothing happened. Except for
the occasional movement of one of the crew on the ship, the whole place
seemed deserted. It was not till well after ten, when dusk had fallen,
that he suddenly heard voices.

At first he could not distinguish the words, but the tone was Bulla's,
and from the sounds it was clear the engineer and some others were
approaching. Then Beamish spoke:

"You'd better keep your eyes open anyway," he said. "Morton says they
only stayed at work about a week. They're off somewhere now. Morton
couldn't discover where, but he's trying to trace them."

"I'm not afraid of them," returned the manager's voice. "Even if they
found this place, which of course they might, they couldn't find out
anything else. We've got too good a site."

"Well, don't make the mistake of underestimating their brains,"
counseled Beamish, as the three men moved slowly down the wharf.
Merr