Jimmy is full of mean tricks.
“Anyway,” he hung on, wanting to work his spite on me, “we’ve got a right, as his guards, to tie him up,” and he came at me with a piece of rope that Scoop had left in the cave.
I tried to fight him off. I would have succeeded, too, if the others hadn’t pitched in and helped him. I was hot, let me tell you. I had no chance against seven. And, as I lay on the cave floor, bound hand and foot, I told myself that they’d get their pay for this.
Then, in the turn of my thoughts, I wondered what was happening outside of the cave. Had my chums been backed into a trap by the killer? Was the money forever lost to us? And had the [[220]]triumphant thief also made off with the bonds?
I was miserable in the helplessness of my position and in our seeming defeat.
As the minutes dragged along and the killer didn’t return, the Strickers became impatient. One of them went outside to look around.
“Hey, Jimmy.”
“Well?”
“Come out here a minute.”
Bid’s cousin went outside to learn what the other wanted of him. There was an elapse of a minute or two. Then: