The people who had brought the car into the garage had left. A mumble of talk had floated up through the stovepipe hole, and the prisoner was able to keep the general run of events that took place in the garage. He could hear Kelly tinkering with the car that had just arrived. In the midst of the sounds he heard footfalls, and then a voice, lifted high: “Hello! Where’s the man that runs this place?” That was the colonel. Angry blood leaped in Matt’s veins as he listened. “Here, sir,” responded Kelly. “Is that big touring car of Griggs’ in shape for the road?” “Fit as a fiddle, sir, an’ full up with oil and gasoline.” Then followed cranking, and the sputter of an engine picking up its cycle; and, after that, the moving off of the car. “The colonel’s away to New York,” thought Matt darkly. “He’s gone to get the two bars of bullion before the bank closes. That’s step number one in the big robbery. I wonder if Levitt and McGlory are with him?” For an hour or two longer Kelly was alone and busy in the garage. A tin clock hung on one wall of the bedroom, and from where Matt lay he was able to watch the moving hands. “If I accomplish anything,” Matt thought, “I shall have to reach New York by eight o’clock. How am I to get out of here and to the nearest railroad station?” That was his problem, and it looked as though he would have to work it out unaided. He tried to free himself of the ropes, but Kelly had tied them too securely. In order to work at them to better advantage, he swung his bound feet over the side of the cot and sat up. But the ropes defied every effort he made to release his hands. With the idea of watching what took place in the garage, he slipped to his knees on the floor and then straightened out at full length. By rolling carefully, he succeeded in reaching the stovepipe hole. His view was limited, but it commanded the broad doors leading into the big room. Kelly was working somewhere in the rear, and could not be seen. Matt was about to roll away, when two figures appeared in the door. One was McGlory and the other was Levitt. “Kelly!” shouted Levitt. “Here!” answered Kelly, coming forward. “Got a car we can use for a trip back to the city?” “Only the runabout this young fellow came in.” “I’m a Piute,” growled McGlory, “if I want to fool with destruction by ridin’ in that.” “I feel the same way, McGlory,” said Levitt, “but we’ve got to get to New York. If there’s no other car we’ll have to chance that one.” “Sufferin’ trouble!” groaned McGlory. “It takes Pard Matt to get any kind of service out of that old flugee. You can’t handle it, Levitt. I saw the kind of work you made of it. Can’t we get a rig to take us to the railroad station?” “There are no rigs here,” answered Levitt. “It’s either the runabout--or travel afoot.”