“Well, sir, I left ’em there to fix it up—we had a repair car in the train—and got my horse off and rode around south of the station. Had some sandwiches in my pocket, but didn’t get a drop of water till I struck your first well, last night. You ain’t using that now?”
“No, we’ve moved up to two and three—this way.”
“There was a blamed fool tried to stop me, a mile south of Barker Hills Station—yelled at me; and fired when I didn’t answer.”— Tiffany paused with this, and looked grimly from one to the other of the young men. Then he drew a big revolver from his belt, opened it, and exhibited the cylinder. One chamber was empty. They were silent for a time.
“You’ll find Mr. Carhart’s cot all ready for you, Mr. Tiffany,” said Young Van, at length.
“All right. Can I get a breakfast at five? I’m going on to find Paul. That’s where the fun’ll be—where you find Paul Carhart. I wonder if you boys know what it means to have the opportunity to work with that man—eh? He had us all guessing about the old Paradise. And he was right—oh, he was right. There hasn’t a rail come through since.”
Scribner and Young Van were looking at each other. “Then those rails didn’t come from Pennsylvania?” said the former.
“He didn’t tell you, eh?” Tiffany grinned. “Well, I guess it ain’t a secret now. Mr. Chambers never even grunted when I told him, but he looked queer. And Mr. De Reamer ain’t said anything yet. Why, Paul, he see first off that we weren’t ever going to get the rest o’ those rails. He see, too, that Bourke was going to cut him off if he could. And what does he do? Why he comes down and walks off with the old Paradise Southern—rails, ties, everything. He never even tells Peet and me. It’s up to him, he thinks, and if he makes good, nobody can kick.” Tiffany was grinning again. “Yes, sir,” he continued, “Paul Carhart just naturally confiscated the Paradise Southern, and it was the prettiest job anybody ever see. And it’s funny—he says to me, while we were out there at Total Wreck pulling up the freight yard by the roots, ‘Tiffany,’ he says, ‘if you hadn’t told about how you stole those Almighty and Great Windy cars from the sheriff of Erie County, I’d never ‘a’ thought of it.’ Well, I’ll turn in, boys; good night.”