“Don’t believe they’ll get far though,” the chief comforted himself. “They’re on foot and their description has been sent broadcast by radio, so that at this minute there are at least a thousand people looking for them. Every road in this county will be patrolled night and day and their chances of getting away are mighty slim.”
The boys were not at all so sure of this, but they repressed their doubts.
“How about the stolen money?” asked Dick eagerly. “Have you recovered any of that?”
“Quite a heap I imagine,” answered the chief, lifting up the seat of the car and displaying several large packages of bills. “Of course I don’t know just how much the thieves grabbed, and I guess the bank don’t know yet either. These were found in the car that turned over. Probably they dropped out of the leader’s pockets in the mixup. We’ll make another search of the car before we leave, but I guess we’ve got all that was there.”
The search was made but yielded no further results. “I’ll have to take charge of this money and turn it over to the authorities in Castleton,” remarked the chief, “but just for my own protection I’d like to have you boys count it now before us all, so that there can’t be any question of the amount.”
The Radio Boys did this willingly, and were relieved to find that the total footed up to a trifle over ten thousand dollars.
“That’s a lot of money,” said Phil hopefully. “Maybe that’s all they were able to grab.”
Here there was a snicker from one of the captured thieves.
“What are you laughing at?” he demanded angrily.
“Aw nuttin’,” he snarled. “Can’t a guy even laugh widout you bulls buttin’ in?”
“Don’t get gay now,” warned the chief. “It’ll be easier for you to tell me now than it will when I get you alone with me in the police station.”
This covert hint of a “third degree” was not wholly lost on the thief, who mulled it over in his mind.
“Come across now,” prodded the chief, seeing that he was wavering.
“Well, it’s dis way,” the fellow answered. “It hit me funny when dis young bloke spoke of me boss bein’ satisfied wid ten grands. Dat wouldn’t be chicken feed fur him. He ain’t no piker.”
“What does he mean by ‘grands’?” Dick asked of the chief.
“A ‘grand’ is the underworld slang for a thousand dollars,” explained the chief. “What this rascal is trying to say is that his leader only goes out after big thefts and would regard ten thousand dollars as a small haul. How much did he get away with then?” he asked of his captive.