Up went the boy's empty hands.
"That's where you are sensible," declared the man with the foxy face. "I have dealt with your kind before, and I know better than to let 'em monkey with me. I am a man with a reputation for catching criminals. At the sound of my name, the professional crooks in the East tremble."
"Walker does not seem to be such a very terrible name."
"Walker—bah! That's not my name!"
"No?"
"Not much!"
"Pray, what is your name, then?"
"I am Burchel Jones, the famous detective," declared the owner of the gimlet eyes, swelling with importance. "Out in this country the fools call me a tenderfoot, but I will show them the kind of stuff I am made of. When they want to catch their desperadoes and robbers, they should send for a tenderfoot detective."
The boy laughed outright.
"You are more sport than a barrel of monkeys," he said, merrily. "What do you think you have done, anyway?"