“No one will pick money off me while I’m asleep!” roared Don.
Alex made good time to the shore, but when he reached the little pier which ran out just south of the junction of the Colorado and Gila rivers he found a crowd ahead of him. The old house was just below, and the creaking of parting timbers told of rapid disintegration.
“What is the trouble?” he asked of the first man he met after landing.
“Why, the old Durand place is tumbling down,” was the reply, “going into the river! It is believed that large sums of money are hidden in the old miser’s den, and the people are flocking here to see if they can snatch some of it. Doesn’t look now as if any one would get it!”
“Some of the folks here may be after money,” another on-looker cut in, “but most of them are watching to see if the boys get out alive. They say there are two young boys locked up in an iron room down there.”
“How do you know that?” demanded Alex, his heart in his throat.
Before the other could answer the question Case came running up.
“Clay and another boy are in there!” he cried, wringing Alex’s hand. “They are locked in a deep cellar, with water pouring in on them! If they don’t drown, the falling walls will kill them!”
“How do you know they are in there?” Alex asked, hoping to find the story told by the on-looker and by Case an uncertain one, after all.
“King came for help to get them out, when he found the cellar was filling with water,” Case answered. “He said he had arrested them and put them in the den for safe keeping. He admitted that his act of authority might be the death of the boys, and he would have been lynched if he hadn’t run away. How are we ever going to get them out?”