But there came a dreadful night when the Station Master put on a pair of old sand shoes that he had worn at the seaside in his summer holiday, and crept out very quietly to the yard where the Sodom and Gomorrah heap of coal was, with the whitewashed line round it. He crept out there, and he waited like a cat by a mousehole. On the top of the heap something small and dark was scrabbling and rattling furtively among the coal. The Station Master concealed himself in the shadow of a brake-van that had a little tin chimney and was labelled:-- G. N. and S. R. 34576 Return at once to White Heather Sidings and in this concealment he lurked till the small thing on the top of the heap ceased to scrabble and rattle, came to the edge of the heap, cautiously let itself down, and lifted something after it. Then the arm of the Station Master was raised, the hand of the Station Master fell on a collar, and there was Peter firmly held by the jacket, with an old carpenter's bag full of coal in his trembling clutch. “So I've caught you at last, have I, you young thief?” said the Station Master. “I'm not a thief,” said Peter, as firmly as he could. “I'm a coal-miner.” “Tell that to the Marines,” said the Station Master. “It would be just as true whoever I told it to,” said Peter. “You're right there,” said the man, who held him. “Stow your jaw, you young rip, and come along to the station.” “Oh, no,” cried in the darkness an agonised voice that was not Peter's. “Not the POLICE station!” said another voice from the darkness. “Not yet,” said the Station Master. “The Railway Station first. Why, it's a regular gang. Any more of you?” “Only us,” said Bobbie and Phyllis, coming out of the shadow of another truck labelled Staveley Colliery, and bearing on it the legend in white chalk: 'Wanted in No. 1 Road.' “What do you mean by spying on a fellow like this?” said Peter, angrily. “Time someone did spy on you, _I_ think,” said the Station Master. “Come along to the station.” “Oh, DON'T!” said Bobbie. “Can't you decide NOW what you'll do to us? It's our fault just as much as Peter's. We helped to carry the coal away--and we knew where he got it.” “No, you didn't,” said Peter. “Yes, we did,” said Bobbie. “We knew all the time. We only pretended we didn't just to humour you.” Peter's cup was full. He had mined for coal, he had struck coal, he had been caught, and now he learned that his sisters had 'humoured' him. “Don't hold me!” he said. “I won't run away.” The Station Master loosed Peter's collar, struck a match and looked at them by its flickering light. “Why,” said he, “you're the children from the Three Chimneys up yonder. So nicely dressed, too. Tell me now, what made you do such a thing? Haven't you ever been to church or learned your catechism or anything, not to know it's wicked to steal?” He spoke much more gently now, and Peter said:--