As he spoke, he swung open the great steel door, and, with a cordial good-by, Merriwell and Buckhart went out into the night. For a brief instant they stood in the brilliant square of light which poured out of the doorway. Then it was suddenly blotted out as the door clanged and the bolt was shot.
“He’s sure not running any chances,” Buckhart remarked, as they stumbled forward through the darkness. “I reckon his work must be mighty important when he has to shut himself up in a prison to do it.”
Dick made no answer. He could scarcely say anything on that score without committing himself, so they felt their way along in silence until they struck the road. Their eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness, they made much better time to Bonnet Trail, where they found the Wizard safe and sound as they had left her.
Merriwell turned on the prestolite and lit the lamps, before cranking her. Then, circling around, he started slowly down the road toward the city.
As they passed Pettigrew’s store a voice suddenly hailed them from the dark piazza:
“Hey, there, you fellows!”
Dick stopped the car and looked back.
“You want us?” he asked.
Pettigrew’s lank figure loomed up out of the darkness as he hurried to the side of the Wizard. His lively curiosity had made it impossible for him to sleep, and he had been sitting alone on the piazza for some time waiting for the return of the Yale men.
“I jest wondered how you made out up to The Folly?” he remarked, with an attempt at casualness.