outside. A blanket was nailed over the only door of the room, and every
thing and every action showed that great secrecy was a most important
factor of the assembly.

The large argand burner of a student's lamp filled the small room with
its white, strong light, The table was covered with railroad time-
tables, maps, bits of paper, on which were written two names a great
number of times, and pens of different makes and widths of point were
scattered amidst the papers,

One man, a large, powerfully-built fellow, deep-chested, and long-
limbed, was occupied in writing, again and again, the name of "J.B.
Barrett." He had covered sheet after sheet with the name, looking first
at a letter before him, but was still far from satisfied. "Damn a man
who will make his 'J's' in such a heathenish way."

"Try it again, Wittrock," said one of his companions.

"Curse you," shouted the man called Wittrock. "How often must I tell you
not to call me that name. By God, I'll bore a hole through you yet, d'ye
mind, now."

"Oh, no harm been done, Cummings; no need of your flying in such a stew
for nothing. We're all in the same box here, eh?"

"Well, you be more careful hereafter," said "Cummings," and again he
bent to his laborious task of forging the name of "J.B. Barrett."

Nothing was heard for half an hour but the scratching of the pen, or the
muttered curses of Cummings (as he was called).