Inside the hack the engineer was making himself as comfortable as possible. His feet were upon the opposite seat, the green carriage robe was wrapped snugly around him and his head was dented back into the soft cushions. He was thoroughly enjoying the chase in his own way. The lurching of the vehicle did not disturb him, and he felt a certain pleasure in the freedom from any immediate responsibility. There was an excitement, too, in not knowing where the chase would carry. It was all a strange section of the city where they now were. He could see the ghostly fronts of long lines of houses, one not distinguishably different from another, but as similar as if they had been sawn from the same block of wood. The fog palliated many a monstrosity of wooden ornament, little balcony, or carved pinnacle. If John Berwick was quiescent on the inside of the hack, Jim was on the _qui vive_ on the outside. He had no idea of the direction in which they were going, but he was determined never to lose sight of that particular hack. At this moment they reached the bottom of a long hill. An eddy of air lifted the fog aside for an instant and Jim saw a head thrust out of the window of the hack. "Geewillikins!" he exclaimed, wrathfully; "that isn't the greaser!" Sure enough the head was not that belonging to the Mexican at all. It was a shaggy bearded face that leered back at Jim, and then he shouted some direction to the driver, and with a belligerent shake of his fist at Jim, jerked his head back. "I guess that hunchback is in there all the same," cried the driver. "He'd better be," growled Jim. At the motion made by the bushy whiskered man, the driver of the first carriage in this active procession, turned his team at right angles into a street running east. "Bill" followed suit making a dangerous swerve, that almost overturned his vehicle, but it righted itself against the curb, and on the pursuit went. But Jim was beginning to be worried, for the big horse was tiring rapidly, while the mustangs seemed unflagging in their energy. "How far have we gone?" asked Jim. "About two miles, Boss," replied the driver. "It won't be long till dusk," said Jim, "with this fog rolling in." "I'll get back, what they have gained on us," declared Bill with conviction, "before they have gone another mile." Jim noticed that this new turn was taking them into an apparently better section of the city, where there were really some fine-looking residences. "They are making a stern chase of it, Jim," called Berwick, poking his head out of the window. "We will catch them yet, Chief," declared Jim with outward confidence. "Good boy!" replied the engineer. "I must say I like your spirit." "How are you putting in the time down there, John?" queried Jim. "Taking it easy," replied Berwick; "resting up in case I have to hustle a little later on."