Immediately I saw in this rope a trap that had been laid for us. It was expected that any one hurrying along that way would stumble over the rope and thus give an alarm. Evidently the men hanging about the shanty were officers of the law, waiting for us, but as it was getting very late they had given up the idea of seeing us that night. I was about to say this to Hughes, but he continued: “It was well for us that the moon was up and we thought best to investigate that cut. It was a trap dead set for us, boys, you can bet your very last cent.” “Right you are, Eddie,” said Big Bill, who seldom said anything. It was a pretty important matter that brought an unnecessary word from him. There was nothing to be done but to make a wide _détour_, which we did, returning to the railroad about half a mile below the shanty. Continuing this route until half daylight, we concluded to leave the track and strike off into the country and camp there for the day. We had gone a mile, or such a matter, when we came up to a strip of woods in which was a deserted hut. “Here’s where I eat chicken,” said Utley, as soon as he set eyes on the place. “I don’t stir from here, cops or no cops, till my belly stops grumbling. Do you all hear?” I waited for one of the others to protest against building a fire, but no word came, so I spoke up, though much against my will: “For heaven’s sake, Utley, don’t attempt to roast your chicken here. It’s daylight now, and smoke can be seen for miles. It’ll betray us, as sure as hades.” “Now, youngster, stop your confounded blathering,” was his reply. “I’ll tell you once for all, my belly isn’t going hungry when chicken’s around.” And, true to his threat, he started a fire, which sent up a cloud of smoke, and after half an hour he passed around portions of the fowl, which, though not well enough cooked, was most grateful eating. I was too hungry to refuse a drumstick when George Wilson handed me one, and I confess that I ate it greedily, not having had a morsel to eat for fully thirty-six hours. I had disdainfully declined to partake of Utley’s pie in the ravine away back. “Now that you’ve made a smoke, Jack,” said I, “let’s move our camp to another clump of woods I see about a mile farther on, before the fire of another sort comes on the heels of your smoke.” My persuasion was potent, and presently we were located in a sort of hollow on a wooded side-hill. At the base of the hill was a thick undergrowth, and beyond that was a brook in a meadow. We had a splendid vantage, from which we could see any one approaching from the lowland. But our rear faced the railroad, and at the top of the hill was an open ploughed field. As to danger coming from over the hill at the rear, most of us thought that it wouldn’t reach us that way.