The trains came and went, and the hush settled down once more at the

station. From where he lay, hidden under a ledge, with a thick growth

of laurel and sumac between him and the world, Billy could not see the

station platform, and had no means of telling whether Pat was about or

not.

He had lain still a long time and was beginning to think that his trip

had been in vain, when he heard a soft crackling of the twigs above

him, a heavy tread crashing through the bushes, a puffing snorting

breath from the porpoise-like Pat, and he held his own breath and lay

very still. Suppose Pat should take a new trail and discover his hiding

place? His heart pounded with great dull thuds. But Pat slid heavily

down to the little clearing below him, fumbled a moment with his key,

and then in a gruff guarded voice called: "Hullo! Hullo! Sam? That you? Yes, aw'right! Yes, aw'right! How's

things? What? Hell's to pay? Whaddaya mean hell? Ain't you gonta put it

over? After all my trouble you ain't a gonta let that million slip

through? What? Oh! Who? The Valet? He's beat it, has he? Whaddaya mean?

He took 'em? He took the pearls an' diamonds? Well, Em'ruls then!

What's tha diffrunce? We ain't gottum have we? Oh, bonds too! Well,

whattya gonta do about it? Move him? What, the rich guy? Move him

where? Why? We ain'ta gonta run no more risks. Link an' Shorty are

sore 'za pup when they come. I don't think they'll stan' for it. Well,

where'll ya move him? Who? Shorty? Oh, Link? Both? Well, I ain't seen

'em. I tol' 'em to keep good an' far away from me. I don't build on

loosin' this job just now, See? What? It's in the papers a'ready?

You don't say! Well, who you figger done that? That Valet? Well,

where's the harm? Can't you work it all the better? We got the guy,

ain't we? He ain't gottim that's certain. We c'n deliver the goods,

so we get the reward. How much reward they offerin? You don't say!

Well, I should say, get in yer work soon 'fore we get caught. Aw'right!

I'm with ya. Well, s'long! I'll be down here at nine sharp. Take a

trip to China with ya next week ef ya pull it off. Aw'right! Goobby!"

and Pat hung up and puffed his way up the hill again, leaving Billy

drenched with perspiration and filled with vague plans, and deep

anxiety. He had got a clue but what good was it? How could he

work it to the salvation of Mark? He could easily put the sissy over

at the parsonage wise, do him a good turn, save his dad some money,

but what good would that do Mark? Mark needed to establish an alibi,

he could see that with half an eye, but how would anything Billy knew

help that along unless--unless he told on himself? For a moment a long

trail of circumstances that would surely follow such a sacrificial

ordinance appeared before him and burned into his soul, most prominent

among them being Aunt Saxon, hard worked and damp-pink-eyed, crying her

heart out for the boy she had tried faithfully to bring up. And Miss

Lynn. How sad her eyes would grow if Billy had to be tried and

sentenced to prison. Not that Billy was afraid to go to prison, in fact

the thought of it as an experience was rather exhilirating than not,

but he was afraid to have those two know he had gone, afraid of their

eyes, their sad eyes! Yes, and he was afraid of the thought of his own

ingratitude, for down deep in his heart he could see a long line of

things Aunt Saxon had done for him that she hadn't been obliged to do.

Going without a new winter coat to get him an overcoat. His old one was

warm, but his arms were out of it too far and he wouldn't wear it.

Sitting up nights the time he drank swamp water and had the fever! That

was fierce! How he did rag her! And how patiently she bore it! The

scare she had when the dog bit him! As if a little dog bite was

anything! Doggone it, why were women such fools!




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