“That was easy. I thought I heard a noise, though, when you backed against the door and shoved it open.”
“Nobody usually monkeys around a dynamite shed at night,” returned Levins. “Whew! There’s enough of that stuff there to blow Manti to Kingdom Come—wherever that is.”
They rode boldly across the level at the base of the butte, for they had reconnoitered after meeting on the plains just outside of town, and knew Corrigan had left no one on guard.
“It’s a cinch,” Levins declared as they dismounted from their horses in the shelter of a shoulder of the butte, about a hundred yards from where the corrugated iron building, nearly complete, loomed somberly on the level. “But if they’d ever get evidence that we done it—”
Trevison laughed lowly, with a grim humor that made Levins look sharply at him. “That abandoned pueblo on the creek near your shack is built like a fortress, Levins.”
“What in hell has this job got to do with that dobie pile?” questioned the other.
“Plenty. Oh, you’re curious, now. But I’m going to keep you guessing for a day or two.”
“You’ll go loco—give you time,” scoffed Levins.
“Somebody else will go crazy when this stuff lets go,” laughed Trevison, tapping his pockets.
Levins snickered. They trailed the reins over the heads of their horses, and walked swiftly toward the corrugated iron building. Halting in the shadow of it, they held a hurried conference, and then separated, Trevison going toward the engine, already set up, with its flimsy roof covering it, and working around it for a few minutes, then darting from it to a small building filled with tools and stores, and to a pile of machinery and supplies stacked against the wall of the butte. They worked rapidly, elusive as shadows in the deep gloom of the wall of the butte, and when their work was completed they met in the full glare of the moonlight near the corrugated iron building and whispered again.