wide awake, listening intently, his head cocked on one side. The
sound grew louder; evidently it was approaching Sequoia--and with a
bound the Colonel sat up in bed, trembling in every limb.

Suddenly, out of the deep, rumbling diapason he heard a sharp click--
then another and another. He counted them--six in all.

"A locomotive and two flat-cars!" he murmured. "And they just passed
over the switch leading from the main-line tracks out to my log-dump.
That means the train is going down Water Street to the switch into
Cardigan's yard. By George, they've outwitted me!"

With the agility of a boy he sprang into his clothes, raced
downstairs, and leaped into Mayor Poundstone's jitney, standing in
the darkness at the front gate.




CHAPTER XXX


The success of Bryce Cardigan's plan for getting Ms rails down from
Laurel Creek depended entirely upon the whimsy which might seize the
crew of the big mogul that hauled the last load of logs out of
Cardigan's redwoods on Thursday afternoon. Should the engineer and
fireman decide to leave the locomotive at the logging-camp for the
night, Bryce's task would be as simple as turning a hose down a
squirrel-hole. On the other hand, should they run back to Sequoia
with the engine, he and Ogilvy faced the alternative of "borrowing"