"No, sir, no telegrams," he said; "none for anybody."
"This is a new way of running trains," I said with a show of
indifference, nodding toward the empty car.
"Oh, there was a party came up," said the agent; "a dozen fellows or
more. Bill said they took a fancy to get off a mile or more down here,
and as they were an ugly-looking crew he didn't say anything to stop
them."
"I don't see what they can be doing up in this part of the country," I
returned innocently.
"I guess they know their business--anyway, it's none of mine," said the
agent. "Do you go in here, sir? Well, it will save you from a wetting."
We had been walking toward the hotel, and the chatty agent left us
under its veranda just as the light drops began to patter down in the
dust of the road, and to dim the outlines of the distant hills.
"I reckon that's the gang," said Fitzhugh.
"I told you so," said Abrams. "I knew it was one of Tom Terrill's
sneaky tricks."
"Shall we take a look for 'em?" asked Lockhart.
"There's no need," I replied.
The home guard of our party received the news calmly.
Wainwright had established a _modus vivendi_ with his young
charge, and I saw that he managed to get a word out of him now and
then. I had to abandon the theory that the boy was dumb, but I
suspected that it was fear rather than discretion that bridled his
tongue.
"Do you think the gang have got into town?" asked one.
"They'll have wet jackets if they are on the road," I returned, looking
at the rain outside.
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