Bill squirmed. "You ain't got no call to put on no airs," he retorted. "Mine's been hatched a long time. I wouldn't let a dog lay on straw as rotten as that stuff. Oh!" he gloated. "Somebody's shore goin' to pay for this little party!"
"Wish th' sheriff would open that outside door about now," chuckled Red, balancing his six-chambered gift "I'd make him pop-eyed."
Hurrying feet, booted now, came rapidly nearer and soon the square-cornered end of a seasoned wagon tongue scraped on the adobe window ledge. Bill Long grabbed it and drew it between two of the bars.
"Go toward th' south," he said. "That's th' boy! Listen to 'em scrape!" he exulted. "Go ahead—she's startin'. I can feel th' 'dobe crackin' between th' bars. Come back an' take th' next—you'll have a little better swing because it's further from th' edge of th' window. Go ahead! It's bendin' an' pullin' out at both ends. Go on! Whoop! There goes th' 'dobe. Come back to th' middle an' use that pry as a batterin'-ram on this bar. Steady; we'll do th' guidin'. All ready? Then let her go! Fine! Try again. That's th' stuff—she's gone! Take th' next. Ready? Let her go! There goes more 'dobe, on this side. Once more: Ready? Let her go! Good enough: Here we come."
"Wait," said Johnny. "We'll pass one of these fellers in to you. If we leave 'em both together they'll mebby roll together an' untie each other."
"Like we did," chuckled Red.
"Give us th' first one you got," said Bill. "He's th' one that spit through th' window. I want him to lay on this straw, too. He's tied, an' can't scratch."
The guard was raised to the window, pushed and pulled through it and carelessly dumped on Red's bed, after which it did not take long for the two prisoners to gain their freedom.
"Good Kid!" said Bill, gripping his friend's hand. "An' you, too, whoever you are!"