A little later the four entered Joe's dressing tent at the circus grounds. And some time after that four men, whose faces were black from the smudge of machine oil and grease and whose clothes carried like marks, left Joe's quarters.
"Down near the shipyards when the last of the day shift comes off will be the time and place," said one of the four smudge-faced men.
"Right!" declared another.
From the big shipyard poured hundreds of men. As they began to emerge from the gate the four soiled-faced individuals who had come from Joe's dressing tent mingled with them. They heard some one ask:
"Are you sure the tickets'll be good?"
"Sure," was the answer. "This fellow and his pal are part of the show. He sells 'em this way so there won't be such a crowd at the wagon, and that's why he makes such a big discount. It sort of guarantees a pretty big crowd, too. Oh, the tickets are good, all right. There's the ticket guy now."
The crowd of men turned down a side street, and the four smutty-countenanced men went with them. One of the four said:
"Wait till he sells a few tickets and then nab him."
"There's two of 'em," said another voice.
"Nab 'em both! They work together."