Irish boy. "Somebody may hear you from the street."
"Oh, it ain't likely there is anybody around," returned Felter. "Now it's open. Who goes in, you or I?"
"I—I don't know," faltered Nolan. "Let's toss up for it."
"We can't toss up in the snow."
"Then here. I'll put a cent in one of my hands. The fellow who gets it goes in. Which hand do you take?"
"The left," returned the Irish boy, after a moment of indecision.
"You've won and I go in," said Felter, a little crestfallen. "Mind now and keep a strict watch. Have you got the bottle?"
"Yes, here it is."
Something wrapped up in a paper was passed over, and then Felter climbed through the open window into the workshop.
While he was gone Mike Nolan tramped about the yard and listened intently. More than once Franklin fancied he would be discovered, but each time Nolan just missed him.
The young electrician was curious to learn what Felter was doing inside the works, but he was destined, for the present, to be kept in the dark. The visit inside did not last over two minutes, and during that time Franklin was too busy keeping
