Paul and his friends had for a long time used this place as a sort of rendezvous in some of their sports. But they had lost interest in it, and had not been there for some time. In a few minutes he was near enough to the cave to hear the sound of strange voices. “That’s none of the fellows,” he muttered, beginning to feel a little uneasy. “But who can it be?” He paused for a moment in uncertainty. Then his curiosity urged him on again, and he soon gained a position behind one of the bowlders that formed a side of the cave. Here he crouched down, and listened. In a little while the party within began talking again. “There’s no doubt about it. He’ll have all the money with him, and, if we’re smart, we’ll make a clean haul of three or four thousand dollars.” “All the same, it’s blamed risky,” said another voice. “Well, what of it? I reckon we’re smart enough to make our escape. We’ll just stay here till twelve or one o’clock, then we’ll make tracks for Bolton’s house. Take my word for it, bub, he’ll never put that money in the bank to-morrow.” Paul almost betrayed his proximity by the start he gave as these words reached his ears. Mr. Bolton was the treasurer of the Building and Loan Association into which he was going to pay the fifty dollars that night, and these two men were concocting a scheme to rob him at his home. The youth soon decided what to do. He must hurry away at once, and tell the treasurer what he had discovered. “It’s the greatest piece of rascality I ever heard of,” thought Paul, as he cautiously rose to his feet and turned away. But he was not destined to escape. He stepped upon a small stone which slid out from under his foot with a sharp noise, and nearly threw him down. “What’s that?” cried one of the men, and the next second both were heard starting from the cave. Paul did not wait. Knowing he was sure to be caught, he broke into a run. The next moment the men saw him, and started in pursuit with a shout of rage. “Stop, you young eavesdropper,” cried the foremost ruffian; “stop, I say, or I’ll shoot you.” Paul paid no attention. He dashed back toward the road, expecting to have a bullet sent after him each moment, but for some reason it did not come. Straining every muscle, he soon came near the fence, and at the same moment he heard the pursuers close behind him. He had no time to climb the fence, and gathered himself for a spring. When he reached it, he placed his hand on the top rail, and made a tremendous leap. He would have cleared it all right, but the rail gave way under him, and he fell headlong into the grass on the roadside. He sprang up, but it was too late. A heavy hand was laid on his collar, and he was jerked violently around. “Now I’ve got you,” said a rough voice. “I’ve a good mind to break your head.” “Let me go!” panted Paul. “I’ll let you go, confound you,” roared his captor, shaking him savagely. “Who are you?”