"Give me the key," he said.

Another laugh followed this speech.

Hal glanced out of the window. It was tightly closed, and the distance to the court below was fully twenty feet.

The youth looked at Macklin, who had resumed his smoking.

"What do you propose to do with me?" he asked.

"That is hard ter tell," replied the tough. "It all depends on wot Ferris is got ter say."

"You have the key of the door?"

"I kinder think it's in my pocket."

"Give it to me."

Macklin chuckled.

"Don't waste yer breath; yer may need it."

He had hardly spoken when Hal sprang upon him. The youth was thoroughly aroused, and a well directed blow sent Macklin sprawling in one corner, while his pipe went flying in another.

The tough uttered a howl as he went down, and Ferris gave a cry of consternation.

"Now will you give me the key?" demanded Hal.

"Git orf of me!" spluttered Macklin.

"Let up there," put in Ferris.

"Stand back, Ferris," cried Hal. "I am not to be trifled with."

"Pull him orf!" roared Macklin.

Ferris advanced, but rather gingerly.

He knew Hal's strength, and he had a great horror of being struck.

Macklin tried to rise, but Hal hit once more and he went down a second time. Then Hal sat down on his body.

"Hand over the key."

Hal had an idea the key was in Macklin's outer pocket, and into this he inserted his hand.

It soon came in contact with what he was searching for. He tried to withdraw the key, but now Macklin began to squirm worse than ever, and he had hard work to master the fellow.

"Help me, Ferris!" howled the tough.

"Don't you dare come near," said Hal.

"Don't mind him--help me," said Macklin again.

Ferris hesitated, but at last approached and caught Hal by the arm.

"Let Macklin up," he said.

Instead of replying Hal sprang to his feet. In one hand he held the key, and with the other he shoved Ferris up against the wall.

"Now let me pa.s.s!"

"Don't do it!" howled Macklin.

"I won't," replied Ferris.

He caught Hal by the coat tail. This compelled the youth to turn once more. He aimed a blow at Ferris' head, and the fellow went down over the table.

Hal now thought he saw his way clear to escape. He bounded toward the door, and was just inserting the key into the lock when Macklin sprang up.

Beside the stove lay a heavy billet of wood, which the man had intended to split up for kindlings. Macklin caught up the stick, and jumping behind Hal, hit the youth a fearful blow directly on the top of the head.

With a low cry, Hal sank down in a heap. Macklin gave a sudden gasp, and Ferris straightened up.

"Have you--killed him?" asked Ferris in a tone, of horror.

"I don't know," replied the tough. "Dat was a kinder heavy crack, wasn't it?"

Ferris shuddered. A thin stream of blood was issuing from Hal's head, and this made the tall boy sick. He approached and gazed at Hal's pallid face and motionless form.

"I'm afraid you have killed him, Macklin," he said.

"Me killed him?" cried the tough. "I kinder think you had as much ter do wid it as me."

Ferris had a sudden chill dart down his back-bone at these words. If anything was wrong it was certain Macklin did not intend to shoulder the blame.

"What made you hit him so hard?" he asked.

"I couldn't help it. Let's see how bad he is."

Macklin approached Hal and turned over the limp body. Then he placed his hand over the youth's heart.

"He ain't dead yet. Dat was a hard crack, but he's got a strong const.i.tution, dat feller has. Say?"

"Well?"

Macklin came up close to d.i.c.k Ferris, who was now as white as a sheet.

"We is good friends, Ferris, ain't we?"