"Stand back, Colonel, stand back, if you please. You're in the way of
the shovellers," Buck Ogilvy warned him soothingly.

Bryce Cardigan came over, and at sight of him Pennington choked with
fury. "You--you--" he sputtered, unable to say more.

"I'm the N.C.O.," Bryce replied. "Nice little fiction that of yours
about the switch-engine being laid up in the shops and the Laurel
Creek bridge being unsafe for this big mogul." He looked Pennington
over with frank admiration. "You're certainly on the job, Colonel.
I'll say that much for you. The man who plans to defeat you must jump
far and fast, or his tail will be trod on."

"You've stolen my engine," Pennington almost screamed. "I'll have the
law on you for grand larceny."

"Tut-tut! You don't know who stole your engine. For all you know,
your own engine-crew may have run it down here."

"I'll attend to you, sir," Pennington replied, and he turned to enter
Mayor Poundstone's little flivver.

"Not to-night, at least," Bryce retorted gently. "Having gone this
far, I would be a poor general to permit you to escape now with the
news of your discovery. You'd be down here in an hour with a couple
of hundred members of your mill-crew and give us the rush. You will
oblige me, Colonel Pennington, by remaining exactly where you are
until I give you permission to depart."

"And if I refuse--"