Morris made himself busy, taking the names of witnesses. When the train stopped, Bartlett had to be almost lifted from the coach. Ralph alighted, too, and kept in the shadow. As soon as the train left, Bartlett was able to walk about unassisted.
The little town they had arrived at was dark and silent, and the two men met no one as they proceeded down its principal street. Then they turned to the south and walked a distance of about a mile. There was a kind of a grove lining the railroad. At its center they reached a lonely hut.
"Open up, there!" shouted Bartlett, pounding on its door with a stick he had picked up.
A light soon showed through the cracks of the board shutters.
"Who is there?" demanded a voice from the inside.
"Bartlett."
"All right—come in."
"Gasper Farrington," murmured Ralph, as he recognized the occupant of the hut.
It was the magnate of Stanley Junction, still disguised, just as he had been the last night Ralph had seen him at the home of Jim Evans. The three men disappeared within the house. Ralph approached and went cautiously about the place.
