Soon the purring of the car was heard and before long the machine came dashing along at a high rate of speed. It stopped abruptly, however, at the sight of several huge rocks that had been rolled into the road by the Rangers.
With a muttered oath, the men who were in the car climbed out to remove the obstacles. And just then a volley of shots was fired into the air, and up about the fugitives rose, as if by magic, a swarm of men with leveled rifles.
There was a startled shout from the two rascals. Gurney—for Phil had guessed correctly—turned fairly green from fright and held up his hands promptly. But Murray was made of more desperate stuff and quick as lightning made a move to draw his weapon. Before he could get it, however, a half a dozen brawny hands had grasped him, and although he fought like a tiger he was soon overpowered, bound and thrown to the ground, where he lay still struggling to burst his bonds and hurling imprecations at his captors.
“The jig’s up, Murray,” said Phil, who had been foremost of those who had thrown themselves upon him. “Where’s that money you stole from the Castleton bank? Come across now.”
His only answer was an oath.
“We’ll search the car,” said Captain Bradley. “No doubt he’s brought his loot with him.”
Phil and Dick were delighted to do the searching, and in a moment there was a cry of delight from the latter, as he lifted up the rear seat of the car and discovered piles of bills bound together with strips that bore the initials of the cashier of the Castleton bank.
The money was counted by Captain Bradley while the Radio Boys looked on with feverish impatience.
“Thirty-eight thousand, five hundred and fifty dollars,” he announced at last. “That accounts for most of the forty thousand you say he stole. The rest I suppose he’s spent.”
“Thirty-eight thousand odd!” cried Dick in uncontrollable delight.