If Hiram had remained he would have had further cause to be suspicious and speculative.

The lad’s footsteps had hardly died out down the street before Bill Bender cautiously retraced his way, and, going round to the side street, upon which the steps leading to the armory opened, gave a cautious whistle.  In reply a sack was lowered from a window to him by some person invisible above.

Although there was some little light on the Main Street by reason of the moon and the few scattering lamps along the thoroughfare, the spot in which Bill now stood was as black as the proverbial pocket.

“Is the coast all clear?” came down a voice from the window above.

“Yes; but if I hadn’t spotted young Hiram Nelson coming down the street and warned you to put out that light, it wouldn’t have been,” responded Bill in the same cautious tone.

“Well, we’re safe enough now,” came back the voice above, which any of his acquaintances would have recognized as Jack Curtiss’.  “I’ve got the rest of them in this other sack.  Here, take this one when I drop it.”

Bill made a bungling effort to catch the heavy receptacle that fell following Jack’s warning, but in the darkness he failed, and it crashed down with quite a clatter.

“Look out!” warned Jack anxiously, “some one might hear that.”

“Not in this peaceful community.  You seem to forget that eleven o’clock is the very latest bedtime in Hampton.”

After a brief interval Jack Curtiss himself slipped out of the side door of the armory and joined his friend on the dark sidewalk.

“Well, what’s the next move on the program?” asked Bill.

“We’ll sneak down Bailey’s Lane—­there are no lights there—­to Hank’s place.  Sam will be waiting off there with the boat,” rejoined Jack.

“Yes, if he hasn’t lost his nerve,” was Bill’s rejoinder as they shouldered their sacks and slipped off into the deep blackness shrouding the side streets.

“Well, if he has lost it, he’ll come near losing his head, too,” grated out Jack, “but don’t you fear, he wants that fifty too badly to go back on us.”

Silently as two cats the cronies made their way down the tree-bordered thoroughfare known as Bailey’s Lane and after a few minutes gained the beach.

“Say, that’s an awful hike down to Hank’s gilded palace,” grumbled Bill, “why didn’t you have Sam wait for us off here?”

“Yes, and have old man Hudgins discover him when he finds his boat is gone,” sneered Jack, “you’d have made a fine botch of this if it hadn’t been for me.”

The two exchanged no further words on the weary tramp along the soft beach.  They plodded along steadily with the silence only broken by a muttered remark emanating from Bill Bender from time to time.

“Thank heaven, there’s the place at last,” exclaimed Bill, with a sigh of relief, as they came in sight of the miserable hut, “I began to think that Hank must have moved.”