Followed a series of
clankings still more familiar to the watcher--the _ting_ of metal upon
metal, as of crow-bars and other tools cast carelessly, one upon the
other, in the loading of the shadowy vehicle. Making a telescope of his
hands to shut out the glare from the lighted windows of the power-house,
Judson could dimly discern the two figures mounting to their places on
the deck of the thing which he now knew to be a hand-car. A moment
later, to the musical _click-click_ of wheels passing over rail-joints,
the little car shot through the gate-way in the stockade and sped away
down the spur, the two indistinct figures bowing alternately to each
other like a pair of grotesque automatons.
Winded and leg-weary as he was, Judson's first impulse prompted him to
seek for the path to the end that he might dash down the hill and give
chase. But if he would have yielded, another pursuer was before him to
show him the futility of that expedient. While the clicking of the
hand-car wheels was still faintly audible, a man--the door-hammering
madman, Judson thought it must be--materialized suddenly from somewhere
in the under-shadows to run down the track after the disappearing
conspirators.
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