Kris Kringle waited to learn whether those in the cellar had heard the shots. But they had not. They were some distance below ground, and their minds were wholly taken up with the great treasure before them.
After a few moments the guide once more removed the bar, first having drawn his revolver in case of sudden surprise. Then he cautiously opened the door an inch or so.
At first nothing happened. The moonlit landscape lay as silent and peaceful as if there were not a human being on the desert.
There were six distinct flashes all at once and a rain of lead showered into the door.
Kris Kringle took a pot shot at one of the flashes, then slammed the door shut and barred it.
"Well; I hope that would get you," he muttered.
Hastily retracing his steps he called the party up to the second cellar.
"Did you fetch the sacks?" called Mr. Marquand.
"No, but I've fetched trouble. It's coming in sackfuls."
"What do you mean?"