“It don’t make any difference,” said Sleepy. “Go on to bed. I’ll find the man that owns the bank, and he’ll probably be interested.”
“If this is a joke—” warned Kelsey picking up his hat.
“I better go and get Warner, the cashier,” said Ralston. “He rooms at MacRae’s place.”
Ralston trotted down the street while Kelsey followed Sleepy back to the front of the bank. They listened at the broken window, which had been barred with some planks, but could hear nothing.
“Yuh probably heard the wind blowing,” said Kelsey.
“What wind?” asked Sleepy.
Kelsey didn’t explain just which wind he had meant, as there was not a breath of air stirring. In a few minutes Ralston joined them, panting from his run.
“Warner ain’t been there since supper, Len. He was workin’ tonight, they said.”
“And Old Man Ludlow, the president, is on a trip to the coast,” said Len. “How in hell are we goin’ to find out anythin’?”
“Smash out another window,” suggested Ralston.