"Just one--Burns. The third hasn't come yet."

"How are you, Burns? I'm Andrews." He groped for Tom's hand in the
darkness, shook it. "I wonder where the other man is. Well, it makes no
difference. We won't wait for him. Come on."

They followed him, out to where the others were standing.

"This way, men," said Andrews, starting up the road on the left. Brown and
Tom fell in beside him. "The rest of you straggle out so that you can get
off the road quickly if anyone comes." Then, to Brown and Tom: "Perhaps
he's lost, or perhaps he's changed his mind. Three others weren't where I
told them to be, but we'll get along just as well without them. I arranged
it this way so that if any of you did decide at the last minute that you
didn't want to go...." He did not finish the sentence. Presently he said:
"I want no men who aren't anxious to be with me."

Tom could not see Andrews' face, but he liked his calm, pleasant voice.
Conversation stopped, except for Brown's remark, "It looks like rain," and
Andrews' answering, "Hm-m-m." For several minutes they plodded along the
road, hidden even from the intermittent light of the moon by the trees that
grew beside the road.

"Here we are," said Andrews presently. They stopped and waited for the
others; then turned off the road into a small opening in the woods. Andrews
went ahead of them, and called back, "Come over here."

They found him with two men. There came a rumble of thunder, so remote that
it seemed like an echo, but to the ears of Andrews' men it was a sharp
reminder of the troubles that might lay ahead of them.