"No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common."

     "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start."

     Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said:

     "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be upstairs?"

     The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: