Yes, Elmer decided in his mind, it was worth a trial. At the worst a failure might only mean the escape of the rascals; and their vicious plot would have been frustrated at least.
He crept closer, still snaking his way along the ground in a fashion that some of his former cowboy friends on the ranch farm three thousand miles away might have recognized as familiar, since they had taught him how to do it.
Con was trying to beg off about entering the tool house, but Phil had overruled his scruples, meeting every objection that was raised.
"Yuh jest got tuh do it, I tell yuh, Con," he finished, angrily. "The thing's in our hands right now, an' yuh promised tuh stick by me. So quit yer hangin' back, an' come along in. I know jest where tuh lay hands on the five-gallon can, an' we kin be out agin in a jiffy. Yuh ain't skeered, be yuh, Con?"
"Aw! course I ain't," whimpered the other, trying to steady his quivering voice, and probably bracing himself up under this accusation which stirred his last drop of courage into life. "Lead off, Phil, an' I'm with ye."
"I'm agoin' tuh make dead sure o' that, Con; that's why I got this grip on your arm. Come right along, the door's open, and nawthin' tuh hinder, see!"
The two shadows passed from Elmer's range of vision. Instantly the boy arose, and darted silently forward. A dozen, yes hardly more than half as many steps, carried him to the tool house. Then, quick as a flash, he prepared to close the heavy door, and fasten it with what means were at hand!