Dick knew there was very little chance for him to escape unaided from the clutches of those ruffians. Still, he was not the sort of a boy to give up, and he resolved to keep his ears and eyes open for any opportunity that might present itself. Left without a light, there was no hope of making a satisfactory examination of his prison room until the coming of another day.
He flung himself down on the couch and meditated. But for the fact that he was in fine physical condition, his fall when jerked from the saddle might have injured him seriously. As it was, he had simply been somewhat shaken up. He felt a slight soreness, but regarded it as of no consequence. Of course, he understood the game the ruffians were playing. Beyond question he was to be held as a hostage in order that Frank’s enemies might force Merry into some sort of a deal concerning the mines.
His one satisfaction lay in the belief that Felicia had escaped. As he lay there on the bunk, he could hear the mumbling voices of his captors in the next room. After a time his curiosity was aroused, and he felt a desire to hear what they were saying.
Silently he arose and stole over to the partition between the rooms. This partition was strangely thick and heavy for a building in that part of the country. Seemingly it had been constructed for the purpose of safely imprisoning any one who should be thrust into that room. Although he pressed his ear close to the partition, he was unable for some time to understand anything the men were saying. He moved softly about, seeking a place where he might hear better, and finally found it in a crack beneath the massive door, through which shone a dim light.
Lying flat on his back, with his ear near this crack, the boy listened. To his satisfaction, he was now able to hear much of the talk that passed between the men. Plainly but two of them, Mat and Dillon, were in the outer room.
“This piece of work certain pays us a good thing, Mat,” said Dillon. “The gent what has it done is rotten with coin, and we makes him plank down a heap liberal.”
“What does yer know about him, pard?” inquired Mat. “Whoever is he, anyhow?”
“Why, sure, I hears his name is Morgan, though I deals with him direct none at all myself.”
“Well, partner, this is better and some easier than the railroad job.”
“All the same, Dan gets a heap sore when he finds we has quit t’other job. And, as for this being less dangerous, I am none certain of that.”