“Will you come out now?” demanded Watts.
To Jack’s horror there was no response. Watts repeated the order, then called on his companion for an axe, and there followed the sound of blows and splintering wood.
“Now haul him out.”
Terror-stricken, Jack listened. Suddenly there came the sound of a scramble, then of a terrific struggle.
The detective was all right! It had been only a ruse! Uttering a suppressed hurrah Jack began hurriedly undoing the fastenings of his door, to get out to the detective’s assistance. Before he had opened it, however, there was the sound of a heavy fall, and a triumphant shout from Watts. Promptly Jack paused, debated a moment, and restored the fastenings. He would wait. Perhaps they would bind Boyle and leave him in the barn.
A moment later Jack regretted his decision. Through the knot-hole he saw the detective led by, his arms bound behind him, and one of the freight-robbers on either side.
The voices and footsteps died away in the direction of the house, and Jack fell to wondering what he should do. Before he had decided he heard the voices of the men returning. Apprehensively he waited. Had they any suspicion of his presence in the second packing-case?
While he held his breath and grimly clutched his revolver, they slid his box to the rear of the wagon, lifted it out, and deposited it on the barn floor.
“Going to have a look at it? Make sure it hasn’t some live stock in it too?” inquired the second man.
Jack’s heart stood still.