He called to Cusick, and had him try the same experiment, following the line of the gutter as nearly as possible in the darkness, on that side, and emptying his revolver.  Still silence.

Woslosky began to doubt.  The pigeons might have seen his flashlight, might have heard his own stealthy movements.  He was intensely irritated.  The shooting, if the alarm had been false, had ruined everything.  He saw, as in a vision, Doyle’s sneering face when he told him.  Beside him Cusick was reloading his revolver in the darkness.

Then, out of the night, came a call from the direction of the woods, and unintelligible at that distance.

“What’s that?” Cusick said hoarsely.

Woslosky made no reply.  He was listening.  Some one was approaching, now running, now stopping as though confused.  Woslosky held his gun ready, and waited.  Then, from a distance, he heard his name called.

He stepped inside the door of the barn and showed the light for a moment.  Soon after the sentry floundered in, breathless and excited.

“I got one of them,” he gasped.  “Hit him with my gun.  He’s lying back by the stone fence.”

“Did you call out, or did he?”

“He did.  That’s how I knew it wasn’t one of our fellows.  He called Cameron, so he’s the other one.”

Woslosky drew a deep breath.  Then it was Cameron on the roof.  It was Cameron they wanted.

“He’ll sleep for an hour or two, if he ever wakes up,” Pink’s assailant boasted.  But Woslosky was taking no chances that night.  He sent two men after Pink, and began to pace the floor thoughtfully.  If he could have waited for daylight it would have been simple enough, but he did not know how much time he had.  He did not underestimate young Cameron’s intelligence, and it had occurred to him that that young Scot might cannily have provided against his failure to return.  Then, too, the state constabulary had an uncomfortable habit of riding lonely back roads at night, and shots could be heard a long distance off.

He had never surveyed the barn roof closely, but he knew that it was steeply pitched.  Cameron, then, was probably braced somewhere in the gutter.  The departure of the two men had left him short-handed, and he waited impatiently for their return.  With a ladder, provided it could be quietly placed, a man could shoot from a corner along two sides of the roof.  With two ladders, at diagonal corners, they could get him.  But a careful search discovered no ladders on the place.

He went out, and standing close against the wall for protection, called up.

“We know you’re there, Cameron,” he said.  “If you come down we won’t hurt you.  If you don’t, we’ll get you, and you know it.”

But he received no reply.

Soon after that the two men carried in Pink Denslow, and laid him on the floor of the barn.  Then Woslosky tried again, more reckless this time with anger.  He stood out somewhat from the wall and called: