Even before Mr. Copewell hailed him Mr. Connors had noted that the man who appeared in the night so near him was dressed too well to be a fellow vagabond. His photographic eyes had recorded this fact when the sputtering match had caught a red reflection on the watch-case with the glint and color of gold. It might have been wiser, reflected Mr. Connors, to have remained silent and slipped up on this gentleman in the official capacity of a thief in the night. His tell-tale song had, however, made that impossible, so he decided upon permitting events to shape them selves. If it came to a crisis, Rat had, in his inside pocket, his “cannister” which was of .38 caliber and dependable.
“Hello yourself, bo!” responded Mr. Connors with affability. “Did you git t’rowed off de dangler, too?”
“I beg your pardon?” inquired Mr. Copewell. It began to dawn on him that this person might after all be an undesirable companion.
“Did yer light on yer neck offen de hurry-up train?” elucidated the other, coming amicably forward and striking a match. The two men regarded each other in the temporary illumination.
“No,” said Mr. Copewell, “I got off by mistake.”
“Same here,” declared Mr. Connors. “De conductor guy made de mistake. De brakeman helped him.”
For a moment Mr. Copewell stood hesitant. Mr. Connors was not just the man he would have selected to assist in retrieving his disastrously threatened life, but there was small choice of collaborators.
“Have you a watch?” he demanded. “Mine has stopped.”
“Sorry,” replied Mr. Connors with a grin. “I loaned me ticker ter a pal.”
Mr. Copewell turned on his heel and began foraging for firewood. Mr. Connors looked on without comment. When the blaze was at last glowing prosperously, its radius of light revealed to him the suit-case which lay near the track a short distance away.