d of this he cautiously withdrew the lantern and
very, very softly slid the door to. This struck me as eminently
unusual and suspicious. I listened, and softly I heard the hasp drop
into place. The door was latched on the outside. We could not open it
from the inside. One way of sudden exit from that car was blocked. It
would never do. I waited a few seconds, then crept to the left-hand
door and tried it. It was not yet latched. I opened it, dropped to the
ground, and closed it behind me. Then I passed across the bumpers to
the other side of the train. I opened the door the shack had latched,
climbed in, and closed it behind me. Both exits were available again.
The gay-cat was still asleep.

The train got under way. It came to the next stop. I heard footsteps
in the gravel. Then the left-hand door was thrown open noisily. The
gay-cat awoke, I made believe to awake; and we sat up and stared at
the shack and his lantern. He didn't waste any time getting down to
business.

"I want three dollars," he said.

We got on our feet and came nearer to him to confer. We expressed an
absolute and devoted willingness to give him three dollars, but
explained our wretched luck that compelled our desire to remain
unsatisfied. The shack was incredulous. He dickered with us. He would
compromise for two dollars. We regretted our condition of poverty. He
said uncomplimentary things, called us sons of toads, and damned us
from hell to breakfast. Then he threatened. He explained that if we
didn't dig up, he'd lock us in and carry us on to White River and turn
us over to the authorities. He also explained all about the quarries
at Rutland.

Now that shack thought he had us dead to rights. Was not he guarding
the one door, and had he not himself latched the opposite door but a
few minutes before? When he began talking about quarries, the
frightened gay-cat started to sidle across to the other door. The
shack laughed loud and long. "Don't be in a hurry," he said; "I locked
that door on the outside at the last stop." So implicitly did he
believe the door to be locked that his words carried conviction. The
gay-cat believed and was in despair.

The shack delivered his ultimatum. Either we should dig up two
dollars, or he would lock us in and turn us over to the constable at
White River--and that meant ninety days and the quarries. Now, gentle
reader, just suppose that the other door had been locked. Behold the
precariousness of human life. F