“What next?” Jack asked.
“It’s pretty sure to be some mischief about the bridge. Let’s have a look around there,” suggested Alex.
Approaching the brink of the ravine at a point some distance from the viaduct, the boys glanced below. From the three broke a simultaneous low cry of understanding and indignation.
In the light of several lanterns a party of seemingly fifteen or twenty men were piling brush about the base of one of the central wooden piers.
“The K. & Z. people again, sure as you’re born!” exclaimed Alex hotly. “And after their solemn agreement!”
“If they succeed in burning it, they will hold back our supplies two or three weeks, and reach the pass ahead of us, dead certain,” added Jack through his teeth. “We’ve got to stop them, boys!”
“Isn’t there a hand-car or a velocipede here, Wilse?” Alex inquired.
“No. Not even a push-car. And it’d take one of us an hour and a half to reach the construction-train.”
“But that’s certainly the only thing to be done,” Jack pointed out. “Perhaps two of us, with the rifles, could hold them—”
A flicker of light broke out below which was not a lantern, and approached the dimly disclosed brush-pile. Quick as a flash Jack’s rifle went to his shoulder, and there was a reverberating crash. The light disappeared and there came up a chorus of surprised shouts and the clatter of running feet.