"They have agreed to give me ten thousand dollars if I restore the boy to them, and I have concluded to take it; but you understand, Bob, that it's a mighty delicate matter to handle."
"I rather think it is," growled Bob in reply; "for if they manage to handle us, we'll fetch up in State prison as sure as we live."
"We'd be glad to get there away from the mob," said Hornblower; "for, the way people feel over this business, they would act like a lot of famished lions toward us."
"If they agree to give what you ask, why don't you turn over the chap to them and have done with the whole business? I'm getting tired of dodging about in this fashion, never knowing when they're going to drop down on us, and feeling as if the prison-door was open just ahead. It's got to be wound up pretty soon, or I'll step out and let you finish it yourself."
"Have patience," said Hornblower in a conciliatory voice; "it will all come right, for we've the game in our own hands."
"Why the delay, then?"
"There's fear of the police; they mixed in, and they're bound to scoop us if they can, and cheat us out of the money."
"There's been a big reward offered by the guardians themselves?"
"Yes. The officers have that as well as the glory of victory to urge them on, and they won't let a chance slip."
"Have you put it to the guardians strong?"