Skippy won.
Devlin’s cold, staring eyes glittered more than ever after he gave his consent and there was a calm about him when he went out that left the boys perplexed.
They rushed to the window when they heard him slam the metal door of the woodshed. Eagerly they watched while he stalked with measured steps toward the barn. Then they saw him backing out slowly in a blue coupe that was distinctly second-hand.
“Another car!” Nickie gasped.
“Gee, I expected it, an’ I didn’t!” was Skippy’s comment. “Did we hear Timmy say that old sedan went over into the lake, or didn’t we?”
“We did and how! You’re right, kid, it looks like I’m goofey about that spook stuff. We won’t argue about it no more. What we gonna do all day, hah?”
“Work on those bars,” Skippy grinned. “Gee whiz, Nick, tell the truth, I didn’t think we’d have the chance. I thought he had us where he wanted.”
Seven hours later, they were not so sure but that Devlin would be triumphant after all. They had worked sedulously during that time but there was only a little give in the top bar and the boys were well nigh discouraged.
Sitting atop the trunk they surveyed the bars ruefully. Another day was drawing to its close, another day that brought them nearer to the Fate which only Devlin held the key to. Skippy felt weary and sick.
“There’s no use, I guess, Nick. It’s comin’ out like Timmy said—we can’t do a thing till he takes us outa here for our turn.”