For fully half a mile the chase continued. Two or three times Reade stepped against some slight obstacle in the darkness, making a sound which, he feared, would travel to the ears of Black. But the latter kept on his way.
Finally ’Gene Black halted where three trees grew in the form of a triangle and threw a dense shadow. In the same instant the young chief engineer dropped out of sight behind a boulder close to the path.
Black’s low, thrilling whistle sounded. A night bird’s call answered. Soon afterwards, another form appeared, and Tom, peering anxiously, was sure that he recognized the man whom he expected to see—-Bad Pete.
What Tom heard came disjointedly—-a few words here and there, but enough to set him thinking “at the rate of a mile a minute,” as he told himself.
Up the trail came the pair, after some minutes. Tom crouched flat behind his boulder.
“Great! I hope they’ll halt within a few feet and go on talking about the things that I want to hear—-_must_ hear!” quivered Reade.
It was provoking! Black and Bad Pete passed so close, yet the only sound from either of them, while within earshot, was a chuckle from Pete.
“That’s right! Laugh,” gritted disappointed Tom. “Laughing is in your line! You’re planning, somehow, to put the big laugh over the whole line of the S.B. & L. railroad. If I could only hear a little more I might be able to turn the laugh on you!”
The pair went on out of sight. Tom waited where he was for more than half an hour.
“Now, the coast is surely clear,” thought Reade at last. He rose and started campward.