fence, smoking furiously, the ember in his pipe glowing like a fierce red eye. A dozen or so of the big pasters were distributed in this manner without any comment.
"Where shall we put the rest?" said Congreve, turning to the group, for they had come to the end of the fence.
"I-I-know a good place," stammered the red-headed one, suddenly. "If you will l-l-let go of my hand, you g-g-great big stuff, I'll tell you where it is."
Hart had been leading him along much as a nurse would take an unruly child out for an airing.
"Where is it ? " asked Golatly, surprised.
"T-t-other side of town. You will have to hurry. It's where we were going to p-p-put ours."
The big fellow dropped his hand at this traitorous speech, and the prisoner pulled each of his fingers separately to be sure they were in place, then, with a "Come on, you Fresh!" he turned down a lane that led them back along the road.
"I-I-I give you my word of honor, I-I-won't run away," he said, breaking the silence (Hart
