Comrades in Crime 



way stations, a patch over which engines have laid 

 a thick deposit of grime. Yet it had one advan- 

 tage; it was no easy carpet for a full stomach. 

 At last I had made a thrust home, and in a most 

 vital spot. Still my enemies had their resources. 

 They tunneled, they bored, they dropped from 

 above, they used all the tricks of their trade. 

 I should never have thought them so tough of 

 muscle, so agile of limb. To some extent their 

 labors restrained them for they had to exert some 

 selection. But pillage was merely a question of 

 time. I doubt, in fact, if anything had been left 

 had I not unearthed them quite by chance in 

 their den. 



For a long time I had been trailing them. I 

 had tried to trap them with shingles, but they 

 proved suspicious of my night's lodgings. I had 

 looked for them imder stones, but they were wary 

 of anything so nearly resembling a cell. One 

 day, however, in turning back a soft matting of 

 leaves, I found them at last, comrades in crime, 

 cradled and perfumed in my spice pinks. Their 

 choice seemed the refinement of a villainous 

 instinct for there were others, the riffraff, whose 



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