“I jest wanted t’ speak t’ him,” said Hummel, gruffly, and started to turn away.
But Jack caught him by the arm.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Let’s look into this. Is he a friend o’ yours?”
“No,” Allan answered. “Quite the contrary. He’s a fellow I fired a while ago.”
“Oh,” said Jack, and looked at Hummel more closely. “What’re ye holdin’ one hand behind your back for?” he demanded. “Let’s see it!”
He grabbed at the hidden hand, but at the same instant Hummel, supple as an eel, slipped from his grasp, ducked, and sped down the yards like a shadow.
Jack and Allan stood for an instant staring after him. Then the former, with a sudden exclamation, raised his hand and looked at it. It was covered with blood.
“I thought so!” he cried. “He had a knife! I saw it when he was runnin’ after you.”
“Are you hurt?” and Allan, snatching out his handkerchief, wiped away the blood.
“Only a scratch. The knife got me when I grabbed at him. It’s nothin’. You go ahead, an’ I’ll see if I can find him.”