“Never mind, Mr. Feet, we know who is boss in this ’ere neck of the mountains, and we’ll apply first American principles to your case. I b’leeve the majority rules in this taown meetin’.”
“I say this feller is Mr. La Blackleg, and oughter peel off for a little inwestergation,—and all of those in favor of that motion will say ‘aye’!” Up went three hands and a mighty “aye” in unison.
“Carried,” yelled the leader.
Then the three laid strong hands on Barclugh.
Resistance seemed in vain for Barclugh, and he submitted, since he had prepared for just such an emergency. He was calm, and said:
“Gentlemen, I am perfectly agreed you should examine all of my papers, and take me to your headquarters.”
Barclugh took off his coat and handed it over; then he took off his brace of pistols, boots, socks and hat.
There were but two papers in his coat,—one the passport of Arnold, and another which the leader read, who then danced around in high glee, holding the letter high up in the air and shouting:
“Yi! yi! yi! We’ve got him, boys! Nary a bit of honest bizness are these fiancee men up to. How be it, he may be in-cog-ni-to, but I b’leeve he’s pritty nigh to findin’ out he’s in the wrong bizness for this country. Listen to this: