Had Dick been able to see them he would have beheld the newcomer, a huge, pockmarked individual, standing in the centre of the floor, staring at the men before him in no small surprise.
“Why, whatever is this?” asked Dan. “I opine I takes my own blanket.”
“But mine is worth more than yours,” hastily asserted Dillon.
“And you’re a heap anxious ter give it up in place of mine, I sees. That’s right queer. I don’t just understand your generosity. It seems mighty curious.”
“It’s all right, Dan,” declared Mat. “Take the blanket.”
“Not by a blamed sight,” roared the big man. “I takes my own blanket. I goes into that room. I sees what you has in there.”
As he said this, he suddenly whipped out a long revolver, with which he menaced the man who attempted to bar his progress.
“Get out of the way,” he commanded, “or I furnishes funeral stock for the undertaker.”
“He’s coming!” whispered Dick. “They can’t stop him!”
The boy rose to his hands and knees, where he listened a moment more. He heard the men on guard protesting, but their protestations availed nothing, and a moment later a hand was on the door.