"What of it?" came the defiant response.
"Well, if you are," proceeded Harris, "I'll give you just five minutes to open that front door and shove your brother, Pete, and his pal, Whipple, out onto the veranda. After we have taken care of them, we'll have you send the girl. I guess you know what we want. The quicker you obey me, Hooligan, the better it will be for you."
"I know my business," continued the angry voice, "an' if ye don't git off these grounds ye'll never live to git off."
"That's a game two can play at, Hooligan," answered Harris coolly. "We're going to get the people we've come for if we have to batter in the door."
"Yes, ye will!" whooped another voice, which Matt plainly recognized as Whipple's. "Ye'll never git us alive."
"That's Whipple, Harris," whispered Matt.
"Glad to know you're there, Whipple," shouted Harris grimly. "Now we know we're on the right track. You and Pete have got five minutes to come out and give yourselves up."
"Ye got a picter of us comin' out!" taunted the voice. "We can shoot—ye'll find that out—but, if ye press us too close, it's goin' to be worse for the girl. If ye'll clear out an' let us go, we'll let her go; if ye won't clear out, then it'll be a case o' up-sticks with Helen Brady."
Matt's heart sank like lead. The scoundrels had the girl with them, and they were seeking to make her safety their protection. How far would they carry their murderous threats? The young motorist's blood ran cold as he thought of Helen Brady's danger.