When they had done this he went on:
“Donald, you ought to know all about this trestle here, since you’ve been around it many a time. Am I right?”
“I thought I had tawld ye I did before, Rab.”
“All right. Then try to decide, if you can, just where these men would be most apt to lay their mine. You can figure that out, can’t you, Donald?”
The other stopped to think it over carefully, for he was beginning to grasp the tremendous idea that had taken hold upon the intrepid scout master.
“Ay, there is one place above a’ ithers they wud select. I gie ye my word on it, Rab. The mair I think o’ it the stronger that appeals to me. An’ if the mine were exploded underneath the trestle it wud do jist as much damage as though the bridge itsel’ were toppled down. An’ the train,—my soul, what an awfu’ fall there would be!”
Small wonder if the boy shivered as he said this. It must be remembered his one thought lay in the fact that the engineer whose hand would be on the throttle of that ill-fated locomotive was his own dearly beloved father.
“All right, then, Donald, we want you to lead us as straight to that particular spot as you can in this darkness. When we strike the trestle we will all start to getting down on our hands and knees, and feeling for something in the way of a trailing copper insulated wire.”
Andy gave a little snort of delight as he grasped the idea.
“Fine, Rob!” he whispered. “You mean to cut the connections, don’t you? When they press down the button of their old battery, expecting to fire the hidden mine, why, nothing will follow! It’s a sure enough bully scheme.”