"Something wrong," said Duval. "Might as well have a look."
He dropped to his knees and peered under the bed, to where Hal was now defending himself against the attacks of the cat, which was striking at him with his sharp claws.
"See anything?" asked Duval's lieutenant.
"Man under the bed," replied Duval quietly. "Get out your gun and get on the other side of the bed."
His lieutenant obeyed with alacrity, and each, with a revolver in his hand, looked cautiously under the bed. Then Duval stretched forth a hand and, seizing the cat by the tail, dragged it forth. At the same time he called out:
"Come out from under there!"
Hal saw that resistance, between two fires as he was, would be useless.
"All right," he called back.
He crawled forth slowly, but before he emerged he drew his two revolvers from his pocket and dropped them beneath the bed. He was thoughtful enough to realize that, should he manage to regain his freedom, the guns under the bed would come in handy.
The lad got slowly to his feet and faced the two criminals.