He hurried up the lane, and I followed in a panicky frame of mind.
The track wound along a hillside, between a high bank and a forest
of birch trees. I think the distance can't have been more than a
quarter of a mile. Anyway, in a very few minutes the road made a
sharp twist to the right and we found ourselves looking down into
the quarry, over a sheer rocky drop of a hundred feet at least.
Below, drawn over to one side of the wall of rock, stood Parnassus.
Peg was between the shafts. Bock was nowhere to be seen. Sitting by
the van were three disreputable looking men. The smoke of a cooking
fire rose into the air; evidently they were making free with my
little larder.

"Keep back," said the Professor softly. "Don't let them see us." He
flattened himself in the grass and crawled to the edge of the cliff.
I did the same, and we lay there, invisible from below, but quite
able to see everything in the quarry. The three tramps were
evidently enjoying an excellent breakfast.

"This place is a regular hang-out for these fellows," Mifflin
whispered. "I've seen hoboes about here every year. They go into
winter quarters about the end of October, usually. There's an old
blasted-out section of this quarry that makes a sheltered dormitory
for them, and as the place isn't worked any more they're not
disturbed here so long as they don't make mischief in the
neighbourhood. We'll give them...."

"Hands up!" said a rough voice behind us. I looked round. There was
a fat, red-faced villainous-looking creature covering us with a
shiny revolver. It was an awkward situation. Both the Professor and