They agreed to divide the night into two parts, Jimsy watching till midnight and then awakening Roy who would take up the vigil till dawn.  This arrangement having been made they secured a light lantern from an adjacent hardware store and, entering the deserted livery stable, prepared to carry out their plans.  With the canvas covers of the aeroplanes Roy managed to fix up quite a comfortable bed on a pile of hay left in a sort of loft over the abandoned stable.

As for Jimsy, he made himself as comfortable as possible in the chassis of the Golden Butterfly, the seats of which were padded as luxuriously as those of a touring car.  He had a book dealing with aeronautic subjects with him, and, drawing the lantern close to the aeroplane, he buried himself in the volume.

In the meantime Roy had rolled himself up in his canvas coverings and was sound asleep.  For a long time Jimsy read on.  At first frequent footsteps passed the door of the stable, but as it grew later these ceased.  Folks went to bed early in Meadville.  Long before midnight there was not a sound on the streets.

Jimsy read doggedly on.  But he was painfully conscious of an almost irresistible desire to lie back and doze off, if only for a few seconds.  The exciting events of the day had tired him out, nor was the book he was reading one calculated to keep his wits stirring.  It was a technical work of abstruse character.

Jimsy’s head began to nod.  With a sharp effort he aroused himself only to catch himself dozing off once more.

“See here, Jim Bancroft, this won’t do,” he sharply admonished himself, “you’re on duty, understand?  On duty!  Wake up and keep your eyes open.”

But try as he would tired Nature finally asserted herself.  Jimsy’s head fell forward, his eyes closed for good and he snored in right good earnest.  He was sound asleep.

It was about half an hour after he dozed off that a window in the rear of the stable framed a face.  A crafty, eager face it was, as the yellow light of the lantern revealed its outlines.  Dan Cassell, for it was he, gazed sharply about him.  He swiftly took in the posture of the sleeping boy and a smile spread over his countenance.

Dropping from the ladder he had raised outside, he joined two figures waiting for him in the shadow of the livery barn.

“It’s too easy,” he chuckled, “only one kid there and he’s sound asleep.  Got everything ready?”

“Dey all bane ready, Maister Cassell,” rejoined the slow, drawling voice of the Norwegian Tam.

“Now don’t botch the job,” warned the elder Cassell, who was the third member of the party; “remember it means a lot of trouble for us if we’re caught.”

“No danger of that, dad.  Come on, I’ll go first and you and Tam follow.”

“Is the window open?”

“No, but it slides back.  It’s an easy drop to the floor from it.”

“All right, go ahead.  I’ll be glad when the job’s over.  I’m almost inclined to drop out of it.”