a good many of us had better try the same game," a second man
said seriously. "The manager can't get us out of the hole, and we may
as well begin to hustle for ourselves."

"It won't cost much to do it," Jet replied, thinking that if a number
of letters were sent from the jail his would attract less attention.

Nearly all the party concluded to make the attempt, and a call was made
upon the turnkey for envelopes.

Jet offered ten cents to pay for the same, and in a short time the
note-book was stripped of its leaves as each prisoner set about making
a written appeal for funds.

The question of postage was next raised, and to this Jet was forced to
respond, in order that his missive should be sent without delay.

By the time the letters had been made ready, the member of the company
who came over on the cars with the manager paid his companions a visit,
and, quite naturally, agreed to post the mail matter.

Now that he was reasonably certain Harvey would soon know the exact
condition of affairs, Jet felt very light-hearted. It seemed almost
positive he had stumbled upon Bob's hiding-place, and if such should
prove to be the case, the second man implicated in the murder must be
captured within a few days.

Shortly before mid-day the squire came over to interview his prisoners.

It was possible he had been figuring the cost to the town in case this
party of twelve should remain contentedly in jail; and perhaps he was
beginning to believe the sentence too severe when taken in the
aggregate.

"Your manager has been tryin' to talk me into lettin' you fellers out,"
he began, assuming a friendly tone and air. "I told him that justice
couldn't be tampered with, an' have come 'round to see what you're
goin' to do 'bout payin' the fines."

"Squire, did you ever try to get blood out of a stone?" one of the
party asked.

"What has that got to do with it, eh?"

"Nothing, except that it would be as easy to bleed a rock as to get
cash from them who are flat broke."

"But, bless my heart, you can't stay here forever, you know."

"It depends on you. If the manager has made any kind of a fair offer I
advise you to accept it, for it will cost something to feed this crowd,
and I don't suppose you would care to take the responsibility of
starving us to death."

The squire wiped the perspiration from his face, although the room was
by no means warm.

"If you could pay somethin' on account, an' give bonds for the rest-