“Nix on that!” he said emphatically. “No breaking away from the bunch. When we go to bed, little Fitzy will toddle along, too, if I have to tuck him in myself.” Fitzgerald lay back comfortably, his eyes fixed dreamily on the dancing flames. “When we capture those bank robbers and divide up the reward,” he mused presently, “I think I’ll buy just such a place as this with my share.” Merriwell’s eyes gleamed. “Counting your chickens a little previously, aren’t you, Fitz?” he smiled. “There hasn’t been any reward offered yet. How do you know there will be?” “Why, of course there will,” the slim chap blurted. “Who ever heard of a bank robbery and no reward. Absurd!” “I wonder if that paper got it straight about their being traced to Middleberry,” Baxter put in. “It would be funny if we should run into them while we’re out to-morrow.” “Hard to tell,” Dick returned. “Personally I’m not going to bother my head about them. We came out to shoot, and that’s what I’m going to do.” “But still,” persisted Fitzgerald, “if we——” He stopped abruptly, and his eyes opened wide. Merriwell also stiffened with a look of keen attention, and in the stillness which followed there came the sound of the front door being opened and closed again. “Barry!” McCormick exclaimed, his eyes brightening. No one else spoke. They had all turned toward the door of the sitting room and were watching it with intent interest, for, after a momentary pause in the hall, the sound of footsteps on the bare floor was unmistakable, coming nearer and nearer. The next instant the figure of a man loomed in the doorway and stopped still, his keen, dark eyes flashing swiftly from one surprised face to another. He was fairly tall, and rather dark, with coal-black hair and a crisp, well-clipped, black mustache. His features were good, but his face wore an expression of domineering harshness which did not improve it. It was evident that he was a man accustomed to having his own way. It was equally plain that at the present moment he was restraining his anger with difficulty. And he was not Barry Lawrence, nor had any one of the party ever laid eyes on him before. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XI THROUGH THE CRACK OF THE DOOR. For a moment the silence was unbroken. Then the stranger stepped inside the room and set down the suit case he carried. “Well!” he snapped. “Might I ask what this means?” He looked at Merriwell, who happened to be seated nearest the door, and his voice quivered with suppressed rage. Dick returned his glance calmly. “You are quite at liberty to ask anything you please,” he replied coolly; “but if you expect an answer you’ll have to be considerably more definite.” The man’s teeth clicked together.