“Yes, as certain as that you will be hanged.”
The man let go his hold of Toney instantly, and stared first at the cat and then at the messenger, as if he was puzzled as to which had answered him. He appeared to decide in favour of the boy, for he said hoarsely, “No cheek, my fine kiddie, or I’ll roast you like a chicken. Bring the keys of the safe, quick.”
“Master has them in his pocket, sir.”
The robber swore a frightful oath, then held converse with his companions in an undertone. After which they produced a cord, and having tied the lad hand and foot, left him in the room with the cat, locked the door on the outside, and proceeded to ransack the bank.
Poor Toney! What could he do against three armed men? The manager, his master, had been very good to him. He was father and mother and brother and sister all in one. What would he say when he returned and found the place robbed—[[111]]the money gone? Hadn’t he entrusted all the gold, and notes, and papers—worth thousands and thousands of pounds—into his (Toney’s) custody, and here were villains breaking open these sacred coffers with hammer and crowbar in ruthless plunder! In his trouble, he almost wished the bushrangers would come in and roast him as they had promised to do. Even that would be preferable to facing his kind master.
“Toney. Hi, Toney!” The boy jumped. He had forgotten all about the cat.
“You were always kind to me, Toney, and I’m going to help you now.”
“How can a cat help anybody?” replied poor Toney.
“Ah! but I wasn’t always a cat, Toney.”
“Oh, bother; I suppose you mean when you were a little kitten,” muttered the boy.