"Fine. That boy, he's got some imagination. He's digging a hole in the back yard. Last week he told us he was getting close to China. This week it's Australia. He said at supper last night that they must have heard about this hole and started digging from the other end. They've connected up, according to him, and he had quite a conversation with a kangaroo."
"A kangaroo?" Don sat up straight.
"Yeah. You know how kids are. I guess he's studying Australia in geography."
"What did the kangaroo tell your son?"
The cab driver laughed defensively. "There's nothing wrong with the boy. He's just got an active mind."
"Of course. When I was a kid I used to talk to bears. But what did he say the kangaroo talked about?"
"Oh, just crazy stuff—like the kangaroos didn't like it Down Under any more and were coming up here because it was safer."
Later that morning, at about the time Don Cort estimated that Superior had passed the twelve-mile limit—east from the coast, not up—the Superior State Bank was held up.
A man clearly recognized as Joe Negus, a small-time gambler, and one other man had driven up to the bank in Negus' flashy Buick convertible. They walked up to the head teller, threatened him with pistols and demanded all the money in all the tills. They stuffed the bills in a sack, got into their car and drove off. They took nothing from the customers and made no attempt to take anything from the vault.