Blake's heart was pounding wildly. If O'Toole slipped now, they'd all pay for it. He turned toward the crowd of waiting masked men.
"Two of you guys step out," he ordered. "Open the doors and herd those cattle into the last car back."
They obeyed him instantly. In five minutes every man and woman in the flyer were crowded into the car with Walter Ferrell and Dauna. O'Toole hesitated, started to climb into the cab of Mono 6, and Slater stopped him.
Standing a few feet away, Blake heard them mumble something. O'Toole pointed to Blake.
"I'll see that she gets clear of the cave," he said in a loud voice. "The boss wants him to be in the car until it's started and on the way down."
Slater hesitated, nodded and turned away. O'Toole winked and Blake grinned back at him. The Irishman had done a swell job. This was one night when his blarney had been a blessing.
When Jeff Blake went into the lounge car, he drew his electro gun. The car was full of frightened women and angry men. He was afraid they might turn on him in the Silver Mask, and spoil his plans. Slater had followed him to the door.
"Don't stick too long," the man cautioned him. "You'll be doing a hundred miles an hour before you hit the head end of the valley. The boss is going to jump when he leaves the cave."
The boss? Then O'Toole really had done a good job. Automatically Blake looked toward Walter Ferrell, and noticed that he was of the same build and size as O'Toole. Slater couldn't see the occupants of the car, but he guessed who Blake was staring at.
"Take good care of Ferrell," Slater said in a dry whisper. "He's worth a lot of money to us."