Something that sounded like a hammer struck the floor with a bang and footsteps scraped about. There was a grunt and then once more came the noise of creaking springs. Joe, unable to restrain his curiosity any longer, raised his head until his eyes topped the window-sill. The pane was dusty and draped with cobwebs, and the interior of the shed was shadowed, but after a second spent in accustoming his eyes to the gloom within he found that he was looking at the back of an automobile which was standing within some four feet of the rear wall. He was too low to see within it, although the top was down. Nearer the floor, something moved and the boy’s gaze lowered to a red-brown thatch of hair, to a shoulder clad in greasy blue denim. A squeaking sound suggested a nut being forced tight. One of the men, probably the one who mumbled, was changing the rear number plate. The second man was not in sight, for the automobile hid the rest of the shed from Joe’s view. The squeaking ceased and suddenly the upper part of the worker’s body shot upward within a few inches of Joe’s eyes and the boy dropped quickly below the window. “All set,” came the voice from inside. “Let’s eat and get going, Jimmy. It’ll be dark in an hour. Huh? ... Oh, there ain’t no danger I’m telling you! Ain’t we got a right to haul a load of furniture over to Casper? Anyway, we’ll keep out of the town this time; take it along by the river. The roads are rotten, but we can make ’em if we don’t hurry too much. I’m aiming to get to Chi along about three-thirty. Best way’s to get the car unloaded and in the yard before daylight. Come on, let’s go.” Joe listened intently. Footsteps crossed the floor, a door banged shut, the barking of a dog came from nearer the house. A voice called, “Slim! You, Slim!” The dog barked louder. Voices mingled, too indistinct, however, for Joe’s understanding. A door slammed and quiet reigned.