Immediately there was a swift and silent stirring of men—a significant movement.
"Thot manes throuble!" was Barney Mulloy's mental exclamation. "Th' sheriff should know av it."
The Irish lad believed that he was watched, but he hurried to the professor's room, telling him to lock the door and keep within till the storm was over, and then he slipped out of the hotel.
Barney did not hurry toward the jail at once, but he took a roundabout course, dodging and doubling, to bother any one who might attempt to follow him.
Finally, having doubled on his own course, he struck out for the jail.
There was a moon, but it was obscured at times by drifting clouds, something rather unusual in that part of the country for a night that was not stormy, and did not threaten to become so.
Coming suddenly to the main street of the town, which led straight from the hotel to the jail, Barney paused and listened.
He heard a sound that caused his heart to beat faster, while he held his breath and strained his ears.
Tramp! tramp! tramp! It was the swift and steady rush of many feet.
There was no sound of voices, but the crouching boy knew a body of men was approaching.