Beyond the opening paragraph I have quoted the handwriting was almost illegible, and in the dim light it was only here and there that I could pick out such words as "bank," "assumed," "risk," "name," and so forth, which gave but an inkling of the real contents of the precious document.
"It's too bad," was my thought. "I'd give all I possess to be able to read this right off, word for word."
Hardly had the reflection crossed my mind when a noise outside startled me. I had just time enough to thrust the paper into my pocket when the door was swung open and the tramp appeared.
He was evidently as much surprised as I was, for he stopped short in amazement, while the short pipe he carried between his lips fell unnoticed to the floor.
I rightly conjectured he had not noticed the light of the lantern and fully believed the tool house tenantless.
"You here!" he cried.
"It looks like it, doesn't it?" was all I could find to reply, and as I spoke my hand sought the pistol I carried.
"What brought you here?" he demanded roughly.
"I came after you," I returned as coolly as I could; and by this time I had the pistol where it could be brought into instant use.
"What do you want of me?"