At Marlin's suggestion, Link first crawled through with the blowtorch and trimmed away the jagged metal. Then the boxes were pushed through and they returned for more.
Marlin glanced curiously around Thornboldt's recent living quarters. The shack was nearly stripped. Books, apparatus, provisions, bedding—everything except the larger pieces of furniture—had been packed.
"The old rascal is nuts, all right," was Marlin's comment to Sally. The others had departed with their loads. "Think we've got all he wants?"
Before she could answer, a staccato volley of shots interrupted. The sounds appeared to come from the slope below.
CHAPTER V
Both hurried to the single window. Where the wagon trail skirted the base of the rocky hillside, a half dozen crouching figures came into view. Armed with rifles and pistols, they were creeping cautiously up the incline.
A single shot from above caused some of the group to drop flat. Others dodged into the brush. There was a movement among the lengthening shadows at the left.
"What goes on!" demanded Sally. "Gang war?"
"They're not shooting at each other," Marlin asserted, after watching the cautious maneuvers of the two groups. "Looks as if they were closing in on some one. Sheriff's posse, I guess."