Each party was placed in charge of one of the road’s detectives, and left the yards by a different route. The night was very dark, with black clouds rolling overhead and sending down a spatter of rain now and then, so that the men could scarcely see each other as they walked along. The party that Jack and Allan were with followed the railroad track as far as the river-bank; then they turned aside, crossed the long bridge which spanned the river, and pushed their way along a path which led to the right along the opposite bank. It was anything but easy walking, for the path was a narrow and uneven one, nearly overgrown by the rank underbrush along the river, so that they had to proceed in single file, the detective in the lead, stumbling over rocks, stepping into mudholes, with branches slapping them in the faces, and briars catching at their clothing. At last they came out upon an open field, which they crossed. Beyond the field was a road, which they followed for half a mile or more, then they struck off along another path through an open hickory wood, and finally halted for breath at the base of a high hill. In a few moments, the other parties came up, panting and mud-bespattered, and the detectives and Mr. Schofield drew apart for a little consultation. “Now, boys,” said Mr. Schofield, in a low voice, when the consultation was over, “I’ll tell you what we’re after so that you’ll know what to expect. One of our men here has discovered up on this hill the place where the ringleaders among the tramps make their headquarters. If we can capture these ringleaders, all our troubles with the tramps will be over. We’re going to surround the place, and we want to capture every one of them. We must creep up on them as quietly as we can, and then a pistol-shot will be the signal for a rush. And, remember, we don’t want any of them to get away!” A little murmur ran through the crowd, and they gripped their clubs tighter. Jack was glad that they had not been given revolvers,—in the darkness and confusion, such weapons would be more dangerous to friend than foe. They started cautiously up the hill, advancing slowly and painfully, for there was now no vestige of a path. The uneven ground and tangled undergrowth made progress very difficult, but they gradually worked their way upward until they came to the edge of a little clearing. Against a cliff of rock at one side a rude hut was built. There was no window, but, through the chinks in the logs, they could see that there was a light within. The men were spread out along the edge of the clearing, and waited breathlessly for the signal to advance. The pistol-shot rang out, clear and sharp in the night air, and, even as the men sprang forward, the door of the hut was thrown open and a man’s figure appeared silhouetted against the light. He stood an instant listening to the rush of advancing footsteps, then slammed the door shut, and in a breath the hut was in darkness.