And these men were going to steal them. All sorts of ideas as to how he could stop them flitted through his eager brain while he noiselessly slipped off his shoes, and crawled out, inch by inch. If only the window fastenings would prove refractory and hinder them till he could steal behind the engine sheds and reach the big gates!
With cat-like speed and lightness he crept round the corner, and as soon as he gained shelter, ran at full speed to the small gate, that was half an inch ajar.
Inside the watchman's box old Joe slept heavily, from the effects of the drugged whisky. Dick dashed out almost into the arms of Policeman X., who looked suspiciously at the breathless lad, in his stockinged feet. "Oh, please, come quick!" he cried, laying hold of the strong hand as no criminal would have done. "They're burglaring the office and stealing tracings. Come now at once!"
"How many?" asked, the policeman with alacrity, as he beckoned to a man in plain clothes opposite.
"Two."
"All right, lead on, and if you're telling a true yarn we'll nab them. If not—well, mind yourself."
But there was unclouded truth in Dick's bright eyes, and the man in blue followed him confidently, his mate bringing up the rear.
Dick led them cautiously till they came close to the locomotive.
Then somebody trod on a piece of loose iron, and there was a slight clinking noise. In affright Whatman darted round the office, to be instantly taken possession of by the second man, while policeman X. ran forward and caught the stranger, who was just emerging from the window with a slim roll of papers in his hand.
"Well caught!" said the man in plain clothes, as he slipped the handcuffs on.