"Is all out?" demanded Furbish of the merchant, nodding his head toward the empty building.
"All but my safe. I want that bad; but you see these robbers won't let me in. It was too heavy for them to move, or they were too lazy, and now they won't even let me take my papers out of it. Curse them!"
"Got the key?"
"Oh, yes! That's all safe in my pocket. But what's a man going to do with a key?"
"You want that safe bad?"
"I'd give a hundred dollars for it this minute; yes, two hundred."
Furbish now held a whispered colloquy with Walter. "Do you think your friends would take a hand?"
"Oh, I'll answer for them," was the ready reply.
"Enough said."
A place of meeting was then fixed upon, after which the three conspirators went their several ways—Furbish to mature his plan of action, the merchant to nurse his new-found hopes, Walter to enlist his two friends in the coming adventure. Charley was in high spirits at the prospect. Bill thought it a risky piece of business, but if his boys were going to take a hand in it he would have to go too. Charley put an end to further argument by declaring that it was a burning shame if a man couldn't go into his own store after his own property, law or no law. For his part, he was bound to see the thing through. Walter stipulated that there should be no violence used, and that he should not be asked to enter the building if it was found to be still in the hands of the sheriff's men.