“Oh yes, he will!” asseverated the convict. “He'll come out on time! A fine show of yourself you'll make trying to dutch him. The pen is mightier than the sword, but inside a prison pen the little screw driver has 'em all faded when a trusty is the repair man. Cell door, tier door, attic door--all attended to; ventilator grating likewise. Rope in ventilator, up rope--out goes rope and down rope! Roof, wall, drop! Rear window of second-hand shop. Outfit! Hike! Good start, till morning shows the cot dummies! Truss rods of Wagner freight, blind baggage to Levant on the 'tween-days train. Into the bush--and here!” “With this added by me,” put in the other convict. “That trusty was a pal in the old days. He understands his friends' financial interest is in this thing, and how we needed to get out sudden to tend to that interest. We have given him our word. He took that word like it was a certified check. And he's going to cash in on that word!” “He sure is!” declared the short man. “We pass words instead of checks in our business, and a man who lets his promise go to protest is crabbed for keeps. We have incurred obligations so as to get in at the split.” He spread out his palm and tapped a digit into the center of it. “Cash--here!” “Strictly on a business basis, of course,” said the tall man. “We don't call for a special split for that trusty. It's a personal debt incurred by Bill and me. We ask nobody to pay our personal debts. All we ask is that debts due us be paid. And we're drawing a sight draft on you gents. Bill and I are probably only a few jumps ahead of the dicks. Where's the coin?” He brutally thrust the question at Vaniman. The young man turned to Wagg, seeking support in that crisis, believing that the affair could be held on the basis of two against two in the interests of further dilatory tactics. Wagg had been showing indignant protest against the demands of the interlopers. But his corrugated face was smoothed suddenly. He had evidently decided to cash in on the new basis. “That's what I want to know--and what I have been trying to find out. Where's the coin?” The realignment--three against one--was menacing. Vaniman surveyed the faces--the glowering demanding countenances, the eyes in which money lust gleamed. He knew that the men were in a mood where the truth would serve him in sad stead. He had no knack as a liar. He understood how little chance he had of convincing those shrewd knaves by his inept falsehoods in that extremity. He had already meditated on the plan of running away from Wagg. His reasons for escaping from this intolerable baiting were now threefold. “It's too near sunset for a job that will take us a long way through the woods,” he blurted. “I'll admit I'm so tired I can't count money till I've had a night's sleep,” confessed the short man. “But you make your promise now and here, Mr. Cashier. When?” He emphasized the last word. “To-morrow!”