With Grattan in the lead, the party scrambled up the slope through the darkness, passed some ice houses, crossed a railroad track, and finally came to a halt in a lonely part of the town, near the walk leading from the railroad station to the business street and the hotels. A billboard afforded them a secure hiding place.
Grattan had figured the time of the train pretty accurately. He and his companions waited no longer than five minutes before the "local" drew to a halt at the station.
"If those boys are not on the train," muttered Pardo, "then we're fooled again. Confound that Motor Matt, anyhow!"
"He has my heartiest admiration," returned Grattan, "but I'm not going to match wits with him and call myself beaten. Hist!" he added abruptly, "here come two people—and maybe they're the ones we're looking for. Mind, both of you, and don't make a move till I give the word."
Breathlessly the three men waited. Footsteps came slowly up the walk and voices could be heard—voices which were recognized as belonging to the motor boys.
"Well, pard," came the voice of McGlory, "New York for ours in the morning. Tsan Ti, with the big ruby, is on the train, bound for China and heathen happiness, Grattan has the bogus stone and is making himself absent in the Iris, and you and I are rid of the hoodoo at last, and have fifteen hundred to the good. That's what I call——"
By then the two lads had passed the billboard and were so far away that spoken words could not be distinguished. And Grattan had given no word for an attack!
"What's the matter with you, Grattan?" whispered Pardo. "They're too far off for us to bag them now."
"We're not going to bag them." Grattan was a man of quick decisions. "We've changed our plans."
While the other two mumbled their surprise and asked questions, Grattan had taken pencil, notebook, and an electric torch from his pocket. Snapping on the torch, he handed it to Bunce.