in a few
moments Jet rejoiced at hearing the man say:

"It's done, and now you'll only have to wait until the parties arrive."

"How long before they can come?'

"There's a morning express which leaves Albany in an hour; but it
doesn't stop here, so they'll have to wait for the five o'clock train."

Jet was not troubled as to where he should spend the time.

He was so tired that he could sleep anywhere, and walked across the
track to the waiting shed, where he laid down on one of the benches,
glad of an opportunity to rest his weary limbs.

While paying for the telegram he noticed with surprise that Harvey had
intrusted him with twenty dollars, and he said to himself as his eyes
were closing in sleep:

"I wonder why he gave me so much? It can't be possible he thought the
message would cost all that."

Then he was unconscious of everything around him.

The midnight express arrived, stopped, and with a loud snort from the
engine went on again; but the noise barely sufficed to make Jet aware
that something unusual had happened.

During the next hour he slept peacefully, and then the two strangers
came up the track talking in low tones.

By the glare of the station lamp they saw the sleeping boy.

"What is the use of waiting for the train, when it may be possible the
officers will come?"

"The morning express doesn't stop here."

"What of that? The conductor would let the officers off if the chief
should ask him as an especial favor."

"Well, how can we hurry matters?"

"He is asleep, and all we have to do is to swear the train has just
passed. He probably hasn't got a watch, and can't tell whether one
hour or four has passed since he closed his eyes."

"But if he should be suspicious, he might make trouble."

"Say, you're getting to be a regular coward. We've got to take some
chances if we want to prevent Joe and Bob from being pulled, and it
will be rough if you and I can't handle a boy like that."

"Do as you please; of course I'm bound to stand at your back all the
time."

The first speaker looked around once to make certain no one was near,
and then stepping quickly into the shed shook Jet roughly.

CHAPTER XIII

THE SNARE

"What's the matter?" Jet cried, as he arose to a sitting posture, and
rubbed his eyes.

"Are you the fellow who sent a message to the Albany chief of police?"
one of the men asked.

"Yes; has there been an answer?"

"I should say so. Don't we look like a