Esmeralda held her breath and waited. She had heard the man yawn and stretch himself; then the door opened and he entered, rubbing his eyes and yawning again.
Esmeralda glided between him and the door, and said, quietly, though every vein in her body was thrilling with excitement:
“Throw up your arms!”
The man swung round with an oath to find himself covered by the revolver. His amazement was almost ludicrous, and he looked from Esmeralda to the woman in speechless astonishment for a moment.
“Well,” he exclaimed, with an oath; “if this don’t beat anything! How did she come by the iron?”
The woman shook her head.
“I don’t know,” she said, dully.
The man glanced at the coat hanging up on the wall of the hut, and nodded.
“Well,” he said, philosophically, “it’s Simon’s coat, not mine. He can’t blame me.”