the lock with
wax, or something, and a locksmith would make him a key that would
answer.

"But, perhaps, if two or three of us could get our shoulders against the
old thing we might manage to force it. The chances are it's pretty punk,
being so old; and the lock must be rusty, too."

"Then let's make a try; and me to be one of the pushers," Bristles
said, as he began to get his sturdy frame locked in an attitude where he
could exert the most force.

Fred and Wagner took their places alongside, managing to crowd in; while
even Sid put his stick against the upper part of the door, as though
meaning to add to the united pressure as well as he could.

"Ready?" asked Fred.

"Yep!" came from Bristles; while Felix grunted his assent.

"Then all together, now!" exclaimed the leader.

"She moved then, Fred!" gasped the pleased Bristles.

"Once more, fellows, and all together, give it to her!" Fred continued;
and the three exerted themselves to their utmost to break the door's
fastenings, or hinges, by a combination of their strength, which was
considerable.

"Listen to her squeak, would you?" called out Bristles. "Again, fellows,
for the honor of old Riverport! Together with a will!"

"Yo-heave-o!" cried Wagner, for the time being willing to be classed as
one of the Riverport crowd, since he was working hand in glove with
them.

The door cracked more than ever under this strain.

"She's giving way!" declared Bristles. "We're doing the business all
right, boys!"

"Keep moving!" called out Sid, encouragingly, and wishing one of the
workers might back out, so that he could find a chance to exercise his
muscles on the job.

One, two, three more tremendous pushes and there was a crash as the door
gave way before the united efforts of the three determined lads. Either
the rusty lock had been unable to hold out longer, or else the hinges
were in a state of complete collapse.

Indeed, so suddenly did the result occur that Bristles was unable to
keep on his feet. His support being withdrawn, he went plunging headlong
with the falling door.

"Ouch!" they heard him cry out, as he struggled there on the floor amid
a whirl of dust.

"Are you hurt?" asked Fred, anxiously; for the other had come down
pretty hard.

"N-no, not much, I guess," Bristles replied, as he began to struggle
once more to his feet, aided by Fred's ready hand; but as the breath had
been pretty well knocked out of him by the concussion, Bristles,