Gallegher could not resist stepping into the ring, and after stamping
the sawdust once or twice, as if to assure himself that he was really
there, began dancing around it, and indulging in such a remarkable
series of fistic manoeuvres with an imaginary adversary that the
unimaginative detective precipitately backed into a corner of the
barn.
"Now, then," said Gallegher, having apparently vanquished his foe,
"you come with me." His companion followed quickly as Gallegher
climbed to one of the hay-mows, and crawling carefully out on the
fence-rail, stretched himself at full length, face downward. In this
position, by moving the straw a little, he could look down, without
being himself seen, upon the heads of whomsoever stood below. "This is
better'n a private box, ain't it?" said Gallegher.
The boy from the newspaper office and the detective lay there in
silence, biting at straws and tossing anxiously on their comfortable
bed.
It seemed fully two hours before they came. Gallegher had listened
without breathing, and with every muscle on a strain, at least a dozen
times, when some movement in the yard had led him to believe that they
were at the door. And he had numerous doubts and fears.
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