"Oh, I brought a bunch of keys along. What are you laughing at? I thought one might fit."
"Keys for a safe! Say, don't you know you don't open safes with keys?
They've got combinations, safes have."
"I didn't know it. How could I? I never saw a safe in my life till I saw this one to-night. I thought they had locks like any other ordinary—Oh, I think you're horrid to laugh!"
"I'm not laughing. Lean over, and I'll show you…. There, I ain't laughing, am I?"
"Not now, but you were…. Not another one, Racey. Sit back where you belong, will you? You can hold my hand if you like. But I wasn't such a fool as you seem to think, Racey. I brought an extra key along in case the others didn't fit."
"Extra key?"
"Surely—seven sticks of dynamite, caps, and fuse. Chuck had a lot he was using for blowing stumps, so I borrowed some from his barn. He didn't know I took it."
"I should hope not," Racey declared, fervently. "You leave dynamite alone, do you hear? Where is it now?"
"Oh, I left it on the floor in Tweezy's house when I found I didn't need it any longer."
"Thank God!" breathed Racey, whose hair had begun to rise at the bare idea of the explosives still being somewhere on her person. "What was yore motive in hold in' up Jack Harpe and Jakey Pooley?"