The moment they had dismounted, Terry and Denver stood a while motionless. There was no doubt, even before they approached nearer, about the activity and watchfulness of the guards who took care of the new deposit in the bank. Across the back wall of the building drifted a shadowy outline—a guard marching steadily back and forth and keeping sentry watch.
"A stiff job, son," muttered Denver. "I told you these birds wouldn't sleep with more'n one eye; and they's a few that's got 'em both open."
But there was no wavering in Terry. The black stillness of the night; the soundless, slowly moving figure across the wall of the building; the hush, the stars, and the sense of something to be done stimulated him, filled him with a giddy happiness such as he had never known before. Crime? It was no crime to Terry Hollis, but a great and delightful game.
Suddenly he regretted the very presence of Denver Pete. He wanted to be alone with this adventure, match his cunning and his strength against whoever guarded the money of old Lewison, the miser.
"Stay here," he whispered in the ear of Denver. "Keep quiet. I'm going to slip over there and see what's what. Be patient. It may take a long time."
Denver nodded.
"Better let me come along. In case—"
"Your job is opening that safe; my job is to get you to it in safety and get you away again with the stuff." Denver shrugged his shoulders. It was much in the method of famous old Black Jack himself. There were so many features of similarity between the methods of the boy and his father that it seemed to Denver that the ghost of the former man had stepped into the body of his son.
In the meantime Terry faded into the dark. His plan of approach was perfectly simple. The house to the right of the bank was painted blue. Against that dark background no figure stood out clearly. Instead of creeping close to the ground to get past the guard at the rear of the building, he chose his time when the watcher had turned from the nearest end of his beat and was walking in the opposite direction. The moment that happened, Terry strode forward as lightly and rapidly as possible.
Luckily the ground was quite firm. It had once been planted with grass, and though the grass had died, its roots remained densely enough to form a firm matting, and there was no telltale crunching of the sand underfoot. Even so, some slight sound made the guard pause abruptly in the middle of his walk and whirl toward Terry. Instead of attempting to hide by dropping down to the ground, it came to Terry that the least motion in the dark would serve to make him visible. He simply halted at the same moment that the guard halted and trusted to the dark background of the house which was now beside him to make him invisible. Apparently he was justified. After a moment the guard turned and resumed his pacing, and Terry slipped on into the narrow walk between the bank and the adjoining house on the right.