“Don’t like that fellow—caboose look-out,” explained Barton.
“I hope he did not overhear our conversation,” spoke Ralph.
About mid-way of the train there was a gondola 224 oil car. It had an elevated runway so that train hands could pass over it readily. Ralph selected this car as a vantage point, and got aboard as the train started on its way for Stanley Junction.
He was dressed as a tramp, looked the character completely, and the false moustache he wore effectually changed his face so that no persons except familiar friends would easily recognize him.
Ralph got down at one side of the big oil tank. For the next hour he remained quiet. Finally, as a brakeman passed over the platform, he climbed up and kept track of his movements.
The man, however, simply passed up and down the train and then returned to the caboose. Then there was a stop. Ralph leaned from the car and looked up and down the train.
“Why,” exclaimed Ralph suddenly, “there is that fellow Woods working at the doors of the cars a little ahead there.”
The brakeman in question now came down the length of the train. The engine was taking water. He halted almost opposite the car Ralph was hiding on. Suddenly he uttered a low, sharp whistle, and it was answered. Three men appeared from the side of the track, spoke to him, bounded up on to the oil car, and crouched down so near to Ralph that he could almost touch them. 225
Woods stood on the next track with his lantern as if waiting for the train to start up.
“Cars marked,” he spoke. “I’ll flash the glim when the coast is clear. You’ll know the cases I told you about.”