"I was in the Cameron building that night," Big Bob said, glancing
painfully in the direction of the night watchman. "I saw him there!"
"The fourth man!" whispered Frank, nudging Nestor with his elbow.
"The fourth man you have been talking about!"
The dying man opened his lips again, but did not speak, for voices
were heard outside, and then a sharp command was given. The order
was to shoot if resistance was offered by those inside. Then the
door was thrown open and a bit of polished steel flashed in the
light of the fire. The alarmed boys dropped the weapons they had
drawn at a signal from Nestor.
The man in the doorway, wet, draggled, and exhausted with the
exertions of the night was Lieutenant Gordon, and back of his
stalwart figure the light showed a dozen armed men in plain
clothes. Some of them, at least, were known to Nestor.
"You are safe, then?"
With a sigh of relief the lieutenant dropped down on a rude bench
that stood against the wall and beckoned his men into the shelter
of the hut. Then he noted the two men on the floor and turned
inquiringly to Nestor.
"Wait!" the latter said. "We shall have plenty of time for
explanations later on. This man is dying, and there is
something he wishes to say."
The secret service men, standing before the fire and swarming
over the two rooms, uncovered their heads and checked the
questions on their lips.
Again Fremont stooped over the big fellow, and again the lips
opened, but again there came an interruption.
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