Nellie was off as she gave the word. They struck a well-beaten cross-alley--a main thoroughfare of the yard--and sprinted off at a lively gait. It was in Burgess’s mind that it was of prime importance that Drake should escape--it was to aid the former convict that he had involved himself in this predicament; and even if the wedding had to be abandoned and the girl left behind it was better than for them all to be caught. He was keeping as close as possible to Bob, but the young man ran with incredible swiftness; and he now dodged into one of the narrower paths and vanished. The yard seemed more intricate than ever with its network of paths, along which the lumber stacks rose fantastically. Looking over his shoulder, Burgess saw that the single policeman had been reenforced by another man. It was a real pursuit now--there was no belittling that fact. A revolver barked and a fusillade followed. Then the moon was obscured and the yard was black again. Burgess felt himself jammed in between two tall lumber piles. “Climb! Get on top quick and lie down!” Nellie was already mounting; he felt for the strips that are thrust between planks to keep them from rotting, grasped them and gained the top. It was a solid pile and it lifted him twenty feet above the ground. He threw himself flat just as the pursuers rushed by; and when they were gone he sat up and nursed his knees. He marked Nellie’s position by her low laugh. He was glad she laughed. He was glad she was there! Fifty yards away a light flashed--a policeman had climbed upon a tall pile of lumber and was whipping about him with a dark lantern. “It will take them all night to cover this yard that way,” she whispered, edging close. “They’re crossing the yard the way women do when they’re trying to drive chickens into a coop. They won’t find Bob unless they commit burglary.” “How’s that?” asked Burgess, finding a broken cigar in his waistcoat pocket and chewing the end. “Oh, I gave him the key to the office and told him to sit on the safe. It’s a cinch they won’t look for him there; and we’ve got all night to get him out.” Burgess was flattered by the plural. Her good humor was not without its effect on him. The daughter of the retired yeggman was a new kind of girl, and one he was glad to add to his collection of feminine types. He wished she would laugh oftener.