The absence of any cartridges made Sheldon persist in the digging up of the floor, and a fifty-pound flour tin was his reward.

With glowering eyes Gogoomy looked on while Sheldon took from the tin a hundred rounds each for the two Winchesters and fully as many rounds more of nondescript cartridges of all sorts and makes and calibres.
The contraband and stolen property was piled in assorted heaps on the back veranda of the bungalow.

A few paces from the bottom of the steps were grouped the forty-odd culprits, with behind them, in solid array, the several hundred blacks of the plantation.

At the head of the steps Joan and Sheldon were seated, while on the steps stood the gang-bosses.
One by one the culprits were called up and examined.

Nothing definite could be extracted from them.