"Oh!"
The Jew's voice sounded in Walker's ear.
"I haf a revolfer vat I vill sell you sheep. Id vas a recular taisy, selluf-cocker, und dirty-dwo caliber. Here id vas, meester. Id vas loated, so handle id vid care. Vat you gif vor dat peautiful revolfer, meester?"
Walker took the weapon, glanced into the cylinder, to see that it was actually loaded, and then suddenly thrust it against the head of Frank, crying, sharply:
"Hands up, Black Harry! You are my prisoner!"
CHAPTER III.
A THRILLING ACCUSATION.
The words rang through the car, startling the passengers, and causing them to stare in astonishment at the man and the boy.
The man with the revolver was quivering with excitement, while Frank, at whose head the weapon was held, seemed strangely calm.