“Suppose you all wait a minnit!” called a voice behind them.
Turning quickly, they beheld the man of the place standing beside the machine, the sharp points of his pitchfork resting against a tire, as if he were about to damage it.
“Get away from that machine, you contemptible skunk!” shouted John, advancing towards him.
The man raised his pitchfork threateningly.
“Throw down that fork, or I’ll let daylight into you!” cried John, whipping out his revolver.
At the sight of the weapon, the man became instantly cowed; he tossed the fork hastily away from him.
“Now come over here and explain yourself,” ordered the boy.
“I ain’t done nuthin’,” whined the other, entering nevertheless through a break in the fence.
“Ain’t done nuthin’!” mimicked John. “You’ve kidnapped two innocent girls, a crime that’s punishable by a long term of imprisonment. Don’t you call that something? What’s the big idea, anyhow?”
The man cringed at these words, displaying even less courage than his sister had; but seeing that John was replacing his revolver in his pocket, he took heart again.