“Too bad,” was his despairing cry. “I can’t get out, after all. The men must be almost there now. If----” He thrust his hand into his pocket, and uttered a low cry. They had not robbed him of his jackknife, and he soon had it out, digging away the dirt for life. How the boy worked! In half an hour he had dug a large cavity under one side of the stone, and a hard push sent it over so that he managed to squeeze through on the other side, and crawl from the cave. Then off he started across fields for the house of Gilbert, the town marshal. He had to cross a brook, but he did not lose time. He waded through, and, with the water dripping from his garments, reached the marshal’s house ten minutes later. As soon as possible that individual was aroused, and Paul told his story. “Hurry,” he concluded. “You may be too late.” In less than five minutes they were hurrying toward the treasurer’s home. The marshal had two revolvers, one of which he handed to Paul. “Don’t be afraid to use it,” he said, and a few minutes after they came in sight of Mr. Bolton’s house. They looked cautiously around as they approached, but all was silent. Evidently the thieves had not arrived yet. When they reached the house, the marshal rang the bell long and hard. A moment later an upper window was raised, and Mr. Bolton called out: “Who’s there?” “It’s I, Gus,” said the marshal, stepping back and looking up. “Come down, quick as you can, and open the door.” Mr. Bolton knew the officer, and lost no time in admitting him. “What is up?” he asked, when they were all inside. The officer explained: “They’ll be here soon,” he concluded. “We must be ready for ’em.” Hasty preparations were made. Believing that the thieves were acquainted with Mr. Bolton’s house, the officer concluded they would force an entrance into the room where the treasurer kept his safe, and to this apartment they all repaired. A large, high-backed sofa was drawn up under the gas jet, the gas was lighted and turned down low, and the three watchers crouched down behind the safe. “We’ll wait till they get in the room,” said the officer; “then I’ll give you a nudge, Paul, and you must turn on the gas in full. Bolton and I will cover ’em with our revolvers, and if they don’t surrender, we’ll let ’em have it.” Paul was much excited. But he tried to remember what the marshal had told him, and held himself in readiness to turn on the gas when the signal was given. Suddenly a slight noise was heard near the window. “Hist!” said the officer. “There they are!” Two or three peculiar scratches were heard, then the sash was carefully raised. In a moment the men climbed through the window and stood out on the floor. The marshal nudged Paul. A broad glare of light flooded the room, and at the same moment Marshal Gilbert cried sternly: “Surrender, or we’ll shoot you down!”