With incredible speed he began to make his molding of
soft soap around the crack of the safe door. Terry turned his back on his
companion and gave his undivided attention to the two at the table.
Their faces were odd studies in suppressed shame and rage. The muscles
were taut; their hands shook with the cards.
"You seem kind of glum, boys!" broke in the voice of Lewison at the
window.
Terry flattened himself against the wall and jerked up his gun--a warning
flash which seemed to be reflected by the glint in the eyes of the red-
headed man facing him. The latter turned slowly to the window.
"Oh, we're all right," he drawled. "Kind of getting wearying, this
watch."
"Mind you," crackled the uncertain voice of Lewison, "five dollars if you
keep on the job till morning. No, six dollars, boys!"
He brought out the last words in the ringing voice of one making a
generous sacrifice, and Terry smiled behind his mask. Lewison passed on
again. Forcing all his nerve power into the faculty of listening, Terry
could tell by the crunching of the sand how the owner of the safe went
far from the window and turned again toward it.
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