off down the mountain after the heavy one, walking stealthily as any
cat, pausing in alert attention, listening, peering out eerily whenever
he came to a break in the undergrowth. Like a young mole burrowing he
wove his way under branches the larger man must have turned aside, and
so his going was as silent as the air. Now and then he could hear the
crash of a broken branch or the crackle of a twig, or the rolling of a
stone set free by a heavy foot, but he went on like a cat, like a
little wood shadow, till suddenly he felt he was almost upon his prey.
Then he paused and listened.

The man was kneeling just below him. He could hear the labored
breathing. There was a curious sound of metal and wood, of a key
turning in a lock. Billy drew himself softly into a group of cypress
and held his breath. Softly he parted the foliage and peered. The man
was down upon his knees before a rough box, holding something in his
hand which he put to his ear. Billy could not quite see what it was.
And now the man began to talk into the box. Billy ducked and listened:

"Hello, Sam! You there! Couldn't come any quicker, lots of passengers.
Lots of freight. What's doing, anyhow?"

Billy could hear a faint murmur of words, now and then one gutteral
burst out and became distinct, and gradually enough words pieced
themselves together to become intelligible.

"... Rich guy! High power machine ... Great catch ... Tonight!... Got a
bet on to get there by sunrise.... Can't miss him!"

Billy lay there puzzled. It sounded shady, but what was the line
anyway? Then the man spoke.