After a time the lights of the city disappeared and the hack rattled on
over a country road.
When at length it came to a halt, intense darkness surrounded them.
Mr. Jones rose and opened the door.
The two alighted.
Jones paid the driver for his services, and then the two men stood alone
beside the road, with the dying rattle of swift-flying wheels in their
ears.
"What now?"
This question fell from the lips of August Bordine as he gazed about him
in the darkness.
"This way."
A hand fell to the shoulder of Mr. Jones. "See here," cried the engineer,
"I am not fully satisfied with these proceedings."
"Aren't you?"
"I am not."
"You can return if you like, only it will be hard on the poor man who
lays on a rude cot in the shanty over yonder, dying. He said you was his
friend."
"An acquaintance only."
"Very well, you can do as you choose about continuing the journey. I have
acted in good faith all along."
"How much farther is it?"
"About half a mile."
"Go on, I will follow."
And then the two men moved from the road, following a path into the
woods.
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