attempt was made, Ben meant to hurl
the stone in his hand at the spot where he was sure they were, and then
yell for the police.

Policy alone prevented the commission of the crime.

"We could have managed it easily," whispered one, as the portly citizen
stepped on the bridge and came in sight under the lamp-light, "but I
guess it was as well we didn't."

"No; it wouldn't have paid as matters stand. We might have made a good
haul, but the excitement to-morrow would have been such that we wouldn't
have had a show to-morrow night."

The heart of the listening Bob gave a quick throb, for this was another
proof of the intended crime on Thursday evening.

"Well," added one, "that telegraph fellow was too smart for us this time,
and has given us the slip. We may as well go home, for there's nothing
more to do."

Thereupon they began walking toward the creek, with the deliberate tread
of law-abiding citizens, who, if encountered anywhere on the street at
any hour, would not have been suspected of being "crooked."

Ben Mayberry had good cause for feeling indignant toward these ruffians,
who clearly intended personal violence toward him, and who were, in all
probability, desperadoes from the metropolis, brought into Damietta for
the most unlawful purposes.

When they had gone a short distance, Ben stepped out of the alley upon
the main street, and stood looking toward the bridge. This was slightly
elevated, so that in approaching from either side, one had to walk
up-hill. The illumination from the lamp, of which I have made mention,
gave a full view of the structure itself and all who might be upon it.
Ben saw his pursuer, in the first place, when he stepped on the planks,
but the light was at his back, and he shrouded his face so skillfully
that not a glimpse was obtained of his features.

In a few minutes the conspirators slowly advanced out of the gloom and
began walking up the slight ascent toward the bridge, becoming more
distinct each second. When they reached the middle of the structure, they
were in plain sight, but their backs were toward Ben, who, however, had
them where he wanted them.

"I think I can plug one of them," muttered the shortstop of the Damietta
club, as he carefully drew back his arm and fixed his eye on the fellows.
"At least, here goes."

Gathering all his strength and skill, he hurled the stone at the one who,
he believed, had been lying in wait for him. The whizzing missile shot
through