“Do you know which Senator Jones it was?” asked McNally. “Was it the one they call 'Sporty'?” “Yes,” laughed Katherine; “I'm very sure it was that one.” McNally turned quickly to Porter. “He's got it in for your people, hasn't he?” “Yes,” the other answered; “but he can't do much harm. Nobody pays any attention to him. Do you know, Katherine, whether his telephoning had anything to do with us?” “I'll tell you everything I know about it,” she said, and she recounted what she knew of the doings of the Senator on that afternoon. “Is that bad news?” she asked, when she had finished. “We can hardly tell till we see what happens next,” said McNally. Katherine seated herself in the chair McNally had placed for her, and listened while her father and McNally talked over their plans and speculated upon the probable import of the messages which kept coming in. There was no attempt to keep Katherine in the dark as to what their plans were, and for the time she had given up looking at the perplexing aspects of the situation, and was enjoying the action and excitement of it. But as the clock ticked off one hour and then another, she noted her father's increasing weariness, and she determined to make another attempt to get him home, where he could, at least, have a few hours' rest. She rose, and walking around behind him, as she had done before, she clasped her hands over his eyes, and said:-- “You're completely worn out, dad. Please come home. I don't believe anything is going to happen after all.” Porter sighed wearily; but he said, “My dear, if Jim Weeks is coming down the line, something is sure to happen.” “Do you think he's on the train himself?” she asked. McNally looked up quickly. It was not the question, but something that the question suggested to him, that made him say:-- “Probably not. We think young West is in charge of the gang.” Katherine's hands were still clasped over her father's eyes, and McNally took the opportunity this afforded him to accompany his words with a meaning look that was insolent in its intentness. In spite of herself Katherine felt the blood mounting into her cheeks and forehead, and McNally, seeing the blush, made no effort to conceal his smile. Katherine did not flinch from his gaze, but returned it squarely. Dropping her hands to her father's shoulders, she said steadily:-- “I suppose he is on the train. He likes that sort of thing. Of course Mr. McNally will lead our forlorn hope when it starts out.” She smiled as she said it, for he winced under the thrust. He rose hurriedly, and as he moved toward the door he spoke to Porter. “I've got some business to attend to with Wilkins. I'll be back soon.” When he had left the room Porter turned to Katherine. “You'd better go home now. I can't go until we know what is going on out on the road. I'll come as soon as I can, but you must go now.”