As I ran, I conned the situation.
I found that I could easily outstrip the lumbering workmen. But that was not the thing. In an hour the whole country would be aroused, and it would be impossible to get a train back to the city without being collared.
A thought struck me.
Easing my pace, so as just to keep ahead of my pursuers, I took off and turned my coat inside out (it was made reversible for the purposes of disguise.)
I yanked off my false mustache, with a tiny pair of scissors hastily trimmed down my false beard, and changed its shape.
A few other changes I was able to make without pausing, and I felt sure I could then pass muster.
Suddenly halting short, I uttered a shout and then blazed away with my revolver, and was still shooting when the puffing men reached me.
"Were you after him?" I inquired.
"Yes," was the reply. "Which way did he go?"
"Straight ahead. My!—how he did run! You can never catch him."