a cut through which the
railroad ran at a point about five miles north of where the collision
had occurred, a tramp was busy, just before sundown, cooking something
in an old washboiler that perched precariously on a fire of wood coals.
This tramp was tall and spindle-legged, with reddish hair and a pale,
beardless, freckled face with no chin to it and not much forehead, so
that it ran out to a peak like the profile of some featherless,
unpleasant sort of fowl. The skirts of an old, ragged overcoat dangled
grotesquely about his spare shanks.

Desperate as his plight had become, Mr. Trimm felt the old sick shame at
the prospect of exposing himself to this knavish-looking vagabond whose
help he meant to buy with a bribe. It was the sight of a dainty wisp of
smoke from the wood fire curling upward through the cloudy, damp air
that had brought him limping cautiously across the right-of-way, to
climb the rocky shelf along the cut; but now he hesitated, shielded in
the shadows twenty yards away. It was a whiff of something savory in the
washboiler, borne to him on the still air and almost making him cry out
with eagerness, that drew him forth finally. At the sound of the
halting footsteps the tramp stopped stirring the mess in the washboiler
and glanced up apprehensively. As he took in the figure of the newcomer
his eyes narrowed and his pasty, nasty face spread in a grin of
comprehension.

"Well, well, well," he said, leering offensively, "welcome to our city,
little stranger."

Mr. Trimm came nearer, dragging his feet, for they were almost out of
the wrecks of his patent-leather shoes. His gaze shifted from the
tramp's face to the stuff on the fire, his nostrils wrinkling. Then
slowly: "I'm in trouble," he said, and held out his hands.

"Wot I'd call a mild way o' puttin' it," said the tramp coolly. "That
purticular kind o' joolry ain't gen'lly wore for pleasure."

His eyes took on a nervous squint and roved past Mr. Trimm's stooped
figure down the slope of the hillock.

"Say, pal, how fur ahead are you of yore keeper?" he demanded, his
manner changing.

"There is no one after me--no one that I know of," explained Mr. Trimm.
"I am quite alone--I am certain of it."

"Sure there ain't nobody lookin' fur you?" the other persisted
suspiciously.

"I tell you I am all alone," protested Mr. Trimm. "I want your help in
getting these--these things off and sending a message to a friend.
You'll be well paid, very well pai