it
without making a racket and bringing Delton and his gang rushing in?"
Bud thought a moment. Then he snapped his fingers softly, and his eyes
lit up. "I've got it!" he whispered.

Taking off his vest and shirt he wrapped the pitcher well in them,
after pouring out the water. Then he tapped it gently against the
window-sill. It made almost no noise, so he hit it harder. After a
few tries he felt it break. As he unwrapped his bundle of shattered
porcelain he saw he had, luckily, broken a piece just the size he
wanted. He replaced his shirt and vest and with the piece of pitcher
in his hand he made once more for the door, this time with a real hope
of escaping.

"Just the right length!" Bud exalted as he slid the narrow knife-like
porcelain through the crack in the door and against the bolt. Then he
started to coax the bolt from its slide. Softly, softly he scraped
against the iron, and to his delight felt it move ever so little. He
could not open the door to its full extent in his endeavor to slip the
bolt, for this would tighten the chain and hold the metal piece more
firmly in its slide. He had to work with his left hand holding the
door at the proper angle and his right hand using the piece of the
water pitcher.

It was tiresome work. Several times Bud halted as he heard footsteps
in the hall outside, but they went on their way without stopping. The
porcelain was rapidly wearing down. Its edge had already become
dulled, and no longer offered the purchase on the iron that it did at
first. But finally Bud succeeded--the bolt slid back.

Cautiously he tried the door. It opened! In obedience to Bud's push,
the door swung wide. For a moment the lad stood still, listening
intently. The low murmur of voices came to his ears.

"Down the hall," he thought. "Must be in that large room I passed
coming in."

He stepped gently forward. A board creaked under his foot, and froze
him into instant stillness. The murmur of voices droned on, and once
more Bud moved forward. Down the hall he tip-toed. Nearer and nearer
to the room wherein the men were talking he came. Now he was directly
opposite. The door was tightly closed, but he could make out the
conversation distinctly.

"A cinch!" he heard someone say. "There's nothing to it! Even if Jake
doesn't know about the Shooting Star, he can run the bunch through all
right. And the sooner the better."

"You know when the run is planned for?" someone