“Anybody hurt?” asked Joe of a train hand.
“Yes, two men killed. They were riding between the cars.”
“Tramps?”
“They didn't look like tramps. But they hadn't any right to ride on the freight.”
“Where are they?”
“Over in the shanty yonder.”
With a queer sensation in his heart Joe walked to the little building, accompanied by Bill Badger. A curious crowd was around and they had to force their way to the front.
One look was enough. Gaff Caven and Pat Malone lay there, cold in death. They had paid the penalty of their crimes on earth and gone to the final judgment.