"He wants you, now."
"What's up?" Reawakened briskness bristled in his tones.
"Bringing in them carloads of miners."
"Oh!"
"He's in the guard auto by the machine house. Better hump yourself."
Jim idled off, then changed his gait to a run as he heard the preliminary whirr of the engine. "Hai!" he shouted, as the lighted nose turned up the hill. "Hai! Wait! It's Jim!"
Tom Hewin made room for him on the front seat. "Take this rifle. Got your automatic?"
They joined the three other cars, ran on too far by the viaduct, and doubled back. The thin pop of fire-arms reached them, then the distant crackle of a volley. The men hunched together excitedly, blood tingling at the prospective ambuscade of the man-hunt.
The wash of the headlight on the tall pines beyond the cut located the engine.
"There!" came Tom's stabbing whisper.