“We shore have,” replied old Bart Witherbee.
“Well, you at least look like a party as could use one,” remarked the stable man, gazing at Bart’s rugged face. “Now the only thing to do is to wait for them to come.”
“That’s it, I guess,” agreed Frank. “They can’t be so very long if they want to get away before daylight.”
But the boys little knew the ingenious plan that the rogues had decided on to compass their ends and destroy the Golden Eagle. Even while they sat there waiting Luther Barr and the others were working out their scheme.
Before long there was the distant chug-chug of an auto heard and as the machine drove away, the sound diminished till it died out.
“Well, I guess your friends decided that they’d put their little expedition off,” grinned the stable keeper. “There they go and good riddance to ’em, I say.”
They waited a while longer, but there was no demonstration of their enemies’ presence. Suddenly Frank sniffed curiously.
“Do you smell anything?” he asked presently. “It seems to me there’s something burning somewhere.”
“I noticed it, too,” said Harry.
At the same instant there was a glare of red flame from the rear of the stable.