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           Thebrakemanwasswingingalanternbackandforth.Overtotherightthelonely,coldstreetlightsofthetownburnedandputapaleglowinthesky.Theairwascoldnow.Asharp,soundlesswindblew.

           "I’mhungry,"Jimsaid."Gotanyideasabouteating,Mac?"

           "Waittillwegettoalight.IthinkI’vegotagoodprospectonmylist."Hehurriedawayintothedarkness,andJimtrottedafterhim.Theycameimmediatelyintotheedgeofthetown,andonacorner,underoneofthelights,Macstoppedandpulledoutasheetofpaper."Wegotanicetownhere,Jim,"hesaid."Nearlyfiftyactivesympathizers.Guysyoucanrelyontogiveyoualift.Here’stheguyIwant.AlfredAnderson,Townsend,betweenFourthandFifth,Al’sLunchWagon.Whatdoyouthinkofthat?"

           "What’sthatpaper?"Jimasked.

           "Why,it’salistofallthepeopleintownweknowtobesympathizers.Withthislistwecangetanythingfromknittedwristletstoaboxofshotgunshells.ButAl’sLunchWagon—lunchwagonsgenerallystayopenallnight,Jim.Townsend,that’llbeoneofthemainstreets.Comeon,butletmeworkthis."

           Theyturnedsoonintothemainstreet,andwalkeddownitslengthuntil,neartheend,wherestoreswerevacantandlotsoccurredbetweenbuildings,theyfoundAl’sLunchWagon,acozylookinglittlecarwithredstained-glassinthewindows,andaslidingdoor.Throughthewindowtheycouldseethattwocustomerssatonthestools,andthatafatyoungmanwithheavy,white,barearmshoveredbehindthecounter.

           "Pieandcoffeeguys,"Macsaid."Let’swaittilltheyfinish."