The wagon stood on a space quite secluded from the street. Near the entrance to the alley several men were lounging about.
Andy carried the leather pouch with him as he went around to the open doors at the rear of the wagon.
He climbed in, and stowed the newspaper bag and what packages they had already collected in a tidy pile. Ripley had indicated that there was quite a miscellaneous load to pick up about town before they returned to the circus.
Andy was thus employed when the rear doors came together with a sharp snap.
They shut him in a close prisoner, for they were self-locking, on the outside only.
Andy, in complete darkness, now groped back to the doors. He heard quick, suppressed tones outside.
The vehicle jolted. Some one had jumped to the front seat. A whip snapped. Old Lute started up with a bound, throwing Andy off his footing. "Send her spinning!" reached him in a muffled voice from the front seat.
"Jump with the bag when we turn that old shed," answered other tones.
"Why, say! There's only one mail bag."
"I saw them bring out two. I am dead sure of it."
"And this is only common letters."