[CHAPTER XI.
BOLD WORK.]
“Softly, Joe, softly!” whispered Matt, stifling his own heavy breathing. “Twist a couple of napkins into ropes. Be quick!”
McGlory had not the least notion what Matt was trying to accomplish, but he knew it was something which might help their escape.
“Be quiet,” hissed Matt, in the man’s ear, “and you’ll not be hurt, but if you move, or try to call out”—his voice grew menacing—“you’ll wish you hadn’t!”
McGlory dropped to his knees with the two napkins and began tying one of them about the prisoner’s ankles. He followed this by knotting the other around the servant’s wrists.
“What next?” he asked breathlessly.
“Put on the white cap and apron,” instructed Matt, “then pick up the tray and rap on the door. When the door’s opened, throw the tray in the face of the fellow in the hall. There’ll be a commotion, and perhaps the guard outside will leave the windows. If he does, I’ll get out and make for the red car. Meet me somewhere along the drive, this side the gate. It’s a desperate chance, Joe, but it’s all we have.”
The cowboy chuckled delightedly as he removed the apron from the prostrate prisoner and tied it about his waist; then, picking up the cap, he set it on his head, and grabbed the tray.
“I’m ready,” he whispered, stepping toward the door. “Bravo, pard! It’s the reckless things that win!”
“Sometimes,” qualified Matt; “if you can’t——”