Bart's mind worked quickly. He felt that it was up to him to play a part, and he prepared to do so.
He was morally certain that two persons in fancied hiding were watching his every movement, and they must be Buck and Hank Tolliver.
Bart hoped they had never seen him before; he felt pretty certain that they did not know him at all.
Bart sprang to his feet. He had thrown his cap back on his head in a "sporty," off-handish way, and he tried hard to impersonate a reckless young adventurer taking things as they came, and audacious enough to pick up a handy meal anyhow or anywhere. He paid not the least apparent attention to the wagon or the trunk, although he cast more than one sidelong glance in that direction.
He walked up to the horse, stroked its nose, and said boisterously:
"Wish I had this layout—wouldn't I reach California like a nabob, though!"
Then Bart went back to the stump. He purposely faced the patch of brush where he knew his watchers were lurking.
Ransacking his pockets, with a comical, quizzical grin on his face, he produced a solitary nickel, placed it ostentatiously on the tree stump and remarked:
"Honesty is the best policy—there you are, landlord! and much obliged for the handout."
Then, striking a jaunty dancing step, he started to cross the clearing, whistling a jolly tune.