Pennington, however, was not trapped. "My dear fellow," he replied
patronizingly, "quite impossible, I assure you. That old trestle
across the creek, my boy--it hasn't been looked at for years. While
I'd send the light switch-engine over it and have no fears--"

"I happen to know, Colonel, that the big mogul kicked those flats in
to load the rails!"

"I know it. And what happened? Why, that old trestle squeaked and
shook and gave every evidence of being about to buckle in the centre.
My engineer threatened to quit if I sent him in again."

"Very well. I suppose I'll have to wait until the switch-engine comes
out of the shop," Bryce replied resignedly, and hung up. He turned a
troubled face to Ogilvy. "Checkmated!" he announced. "Whipped to a
frazzle. The Colonel is lying, Buck, and I've caught him at it. As a
matter of fact, the mogul didn't kick those flats in at all. The
switch-engine did--and I know it. Now I'm going to send a man over to
snoop around Pennington's roundhouse and verify his report about the
switch-engine being in the shop."

He did so. Half an hour later the messenger returned with the
information that not only was the switch-engine not in the shop but
her fire-box had been overhauled the week before and was reported to
be in excellent condition.

"That settles it," Buck Ogilvy mourned. "He had gum-shoe men on my
trail, after all; they have reported, and the Colonel is as
suspicious as a rhino. He doesn't know anything, but he smells danger