Another bullet tore through the wood of the trapdoor.
The Hardys sprang back and, making as little noise as possible, pressed themselves against the sloping walls of the attic, keeping as far away from the trapdoor as they could.
A few more shots resounded. The bullets were unpleasantly close.
Then Snackley spoke again.
"What do you think of it now, Hardy? Are you and your boys ready to come down?"
They did not answer, for they knew that if they did their voices would reveal where they were standing and might bring a bullet. When they did not reply Snackley spoke to his men.
"Let 'em have a few more!"
An angry chorus of revolver shots followed. In the midst of the uproar some of the smugglers secured a long pole and pushed against the trapdoor with it. Before those above could avert the danger the trapdoor was flung wide open. It fell back with a crash.
A hand appeared through the trapdoor, holding a revolver, and then the head and shoulders of one of the smugglers followed. He peered into the darkness, holding the weapon in readiness. Some one had switched on a light in the hall so that the man's figure could be clearly seen.
"Come out of it!" he snapped, pointing the
