"Ike Watson!" the face of the speaker grew quite disturbed. It was plain he had heard of Watson before and did not relish being held up by the well-known old man.
"Ye-as, I'm Ike Watson," drawled the old hunter. "Now, strangers, give me yer handles, and let me have 'em straight."
"My name is Roe Bluckburn," came from the standing man.
"Mine is Lou Slavin, and I'm not ashamed of it," came from the other.
"Jes' so," mused Watson. "I've heard o' both o' yeez belongin' to the old Sol Davids gang o' hoss thieves."
"You are mistaken. We are not thieves of any sort," said Bluckburn, who appeared the leader of the pair.
"Well, we won't quarrel about that, seein' ez how we are on another trail ter day. We want ye ter up an' tell us ter onct whar Barnaby Winthrop is."
"Yes, and tell us the truth," put in Allen, sternly.
The men were both taken aback by the request. They exchanged glances and each waited for the other to speak.
"Come, out with it, Bluckburn!" cried Watson.