CHAPTER XVII
A DESPERATE REMEDY
"All right, Bart?" called out the man in the car, as the other seemed to have reached the cross-bars far up the pole, over the lower of which he threw a leg, after the confident manner of one accustomed to such antics.
"Sure. It was dead easy," came floating down from above.
"Then get to work, and make a clean job of it. Look here, boy, don't you be thinkin' of leavin' us in the lurch just now. I ain't fit to run this shebang, so we need you, and need you bad. I reckon you -know what this is, don't you?" and the fellow showed something that glistened like steel in the mellow moonlight.
Frank could not help feeling a little chill; still, he was not given to showing the white feather easily.
"Of course I do. It isn't the first time I've seen a revolver," he managed to say, with a nervous little laugh.
"All right, then; don't get gay, and make me ugly,
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