“That’s too risky,” Jukes answered. “They’d be pretty sure to look into it if he was brought in dead. What I say is, let him be rescued by one of our New Orleans men. The boy won’t ever suspect, an’ his old man will be so thankful that he was delivered out o’ the hands of the ruffians--meanin’ you, Bull--that he’ll pay the five thousand without a whimper. Let’s see, now, LeGrand would be the chap to put it through. He’s a good Creole an’ stands well with the police.” “Huh!” Whaley grunted. “An’ what’d LeGrand want for the job? Half the reward, if I know him. No, sir, take him in dead, I says. There’s more in it fer us that way.” Then Tad heard the husky drawl of the chief. “Neither one of yo’ ideas is wu’th the powder to blow it up, gentlemen,” he said. “You’re used to makin’ small plans an’ takin’ small pickin’s. Five thousand dollars is all either of you can see in this. I aim to get fifty thousand.” His words evidently left his hearers dumfounded. For a moment there was no sound. Then--“_Fifty_ thousand!” both exclaimed together. “That was what I said,” Murrell returned. “This man Hopkins has offered a reward of five thousand. That means he is rich. He could scrape up, on his credit, all of fifty thousand dollars, and that is the sum I shall ask him to pay fo’ the safe return of his son.” “Hold him fer ransom, eh?” said Whaley with a chuckle. “You win, Jack. I reckon if you sign the letter, they’ll know they’ve got to pay or they’ll never see him again.” “Yes, that’s the plan, right enough,” Jukes put in. “We’ll have to fix up a good place for ’em to bring the money, though, so we can watch out for tricks.” “As to that,” said Murrell, “I’ve worked out all the details. You know that island--” And here he dropped his voice too low for Tad’s ears. The rest of the conversation was evidently held in an undertone, heads close together over the table, for try as he would, the boy could catch only a stray word now and then. The sun had evidently broken through the clouds, for a slanting beam came through the cob-webs of the room’s one window, which opened toward the west. And this feeble ray of light chanced to fall just inside the edge of the opening in the floor. It was a lucky chance for Tad. Glancing into the hole as he was about to crawl away, he saw something that made his heart jump into his throat. Quickly he reached down and brought it up into the light--a big, three-edged file. The hole in the floor must have been the secret hiding-place used by that other prisoner, who had been taken away before his work on the fetter was finished. Eagerly Tad felt the edges of the file. It was still sharp. He was just moving to a position where he could get at his ankle-iron when a step sounded on the stairs, and he had barely time to replace the tool in the aperture and cover it with the board. As he crawled back to his rags in the corner the door was opened and the giant slave, Congo, came in.