Gently Danny lowered it to the floor.
“I’m not man enough to carry it,” he groaned, “not until I get some eats, at least. If I leave it here, the chink and the woman will come and get it and, if I try to carry it off, I’ll faint by the wayside. I wonder if the other tires are gold mines too.”
Cautiously he felt of the others, but fortunately the rubber had held better in those and, although they too were full of something, it did not come rolling out on the feet of the young man. He found a slot had been cut in each tire just large enough for a twenty-dollar gold piece to be slipped in.
“I wish I could get hold of Josie O’Gorman. She’s got sense to burn. I’ll run there as fast as I can but, before I go, I’ll hide the treasure.” He carefully lifted the bag into the car and covered it with the old cushions and horse hair that had been pulled from them.
Closing the door carefully and sticking the hasp back into the holes from which he had drawn it, he began to run down the alley.
“Stop!” called out a voice from the shadows of the opposite fence. “Stop or I fire!”
“Well, I’ve stopped, now what do you want? Can’t a gentleman run down an alley without getting shot?”
The man stepped from the shadow and, turning back the lapel of his coat, disclosed a star. It was Slater, who still had his eye on the Hathaway house, for his week was not quite finished. Slater was a creature of habit and did not like to break in on a week.
“A cop! Bless me if I’m not glad to see you!”
“See here, none of your gaff, young man! What would you be glad to see me about? Why would a man who was evidently running away from somebody be after being glad to see a policeman? You come along here and report to headquarters.”