He was answered by the grinding of brakes and by the train coming to a sharp halt. And instantly from every side men fell from it to the ground, and the silence of the night was broken by a confusion of calls and eager greeting and questions and sharp words of command. So fascinated was David in the stealthy arrival of the train and in her mysterious passengers that, until they confronted him, he did not note the equally stealthy approach of three men. Of these one was the little man from the tug. With him was a fat, red-faced Irish-American He wore no coat and his shirt-sleeves were drawn away from his hands by garters of pink elastic, his derby hat was balanced behind his ears, upon his right hand flashed an enormous diamond. He looked as though but at that moment he had stopped sliding glasses across a Bowery bar. The third man carried the outward marks of a sailor. David believed he was the tallest man he had ever beheld, but equally remarkable with his height was his beard and hair, which were of a fierce brick-dust red. Even in the mild moonlight it flamed like a torch. “What's your business?” demanded the man with the flamboyant hair. “I came here,” began David, “to wait for a train--” The tall man bellowed with indignant rage. “Yes,” he shouted; “this is the sort of place any one would pick out to wait for a train!” In front of David's nose he shook a fist as large as a catcher's glove. “Don't you lie to ME!” he bullied. “Do you know who I am? Do you know WHO you're up against? I'm--” The barkeeper person interrupted. “Never mind who you are,” he said. “We know that. Find out who HE is.” David turned appealingly to the barkeeper. “Do you suppose I'd come here on purpose?” he protested. “I'm a travelling man--” “You won't travel any to-night,” mocked the red-haired one. “You've seen what you came to see, and all you want now is to get to a Western Union wire. Well, you don't do it. You don't leave here to-night!” As though he thought he had been neglected, the little man in riding-boots pushed forward importantly. “Tie him to a tree!” he suggested. “Better take him on board,” said the barkeeper, “and send him back by the pilot. When we're once at sea, he can't hurt us any.” “What makes you think I want to hurt you?” demanded David. “Who do you think I am?” “We know who you are,” shouted the fiery-headed one. “You're a blanketty-blank spy! You're a government spy or a Spanish spy, and whichever you are you don't get away to-night!” David had not the faintest idea what the man meant, but he knew his self-respect was being ill-treated, and his self-respect rebelled. “You have made a very serious mistake,” he said, “and whether you like it or not, I AM leaving here to-night, and YOU can go to the devil!”