"If he gets away in that he and the tin box are goners!" was Hal's rapid conclusion. "I must stop him at all hazards."
Hardwick had a good start, but Hal made quick time after him, and when the ex-book-keeper reached the sleigh the boy was not a dozen yards behind.
"Stop, Hardwick!" he cried.
"Not much, Carson! Take that!"
Hardwick pulled out his weapon. There were two reports in rapid succession. Hal was struck in the side, and Hardwick stumbled down.
Hal was quite badly hurt, but he braced up and staggered to where Hardwick lay.
"Now give up the tin box," he ordered, in as steady a voice as he could.
"Never to you!" roared Hardwick. "You have been the cause of all my trouble. Take that!"
He fired. One bullet grazed Hal's shoulder, the others flew wide of their mark. Then the boy took the butt of his own weapon and with one blow on Hardwick's head knocked the villain unconscious.
The mist was swimming before his eyes as he gathered up the tin box and its precious contents, and staggered toward the house. The policemen had made prisoners of the gang, and Horace Sumner ran out to meet the youth.