The boy smiled, in a scornful and pitying way.
When the train drew into Elreno, a great crowd was seen on the platform of the station, and, for the first time, a troubled look came to the face of the youthful prisoner.
"The whole town has turned out to see Black Harry and the man who captured him," said Jones, swelling with importance.
Frank said nothing; he knew well enough that such a crowd was dangerous in many cases. What if it were generally believed that he was, in truth, Black Harry, and the mob should take a fancy to lynch him? His chance of escaping a speedy death would be slim, indeed!
The train stopped, and, with his hand clutching the boy's shoulder, Jones descended to the platform.
"Thar he is!"
The cry went up, and the crowd surged toward the two.
"Stan' back hyar!"
A man that was six feet and four inches in height, and weighed at least two hundred and fifty pounds, forced his way through the throng, casting men to the right and left with his muscular arms. He had a hard, weather-tanned face, and looked as if he did not fear the Evil One himself.
"Are you Burchel Jones, ther detective?" asked this man, as he loomed before Jones and his captive.