“Of course we’ll do that,” cried Matt determinedly. “But I say, wouldn’t it be best if we each got a stout stick? They may show fight if they fancy we are beyond outside aid.”
“Perhaps we can bluff them into believing that we have the village authorities at our back,” suggested Andy. “I would rather frighten them off than run the risk of coming off second best in a set-to with them.”
“Hi! what are you fellows doing here?” suddenly demanded a voice just behind Andy. “Do you belong—what, you?”
And the speaker, none other than Paul Barberry, stepped back in amazement.
“What’s the trouble there, Barberry?” cried one of the men by the fire, and both sprang up in alarm.
“Why, here are the—the—a couple of young fellows,” stammered the corn salve doctor. He was so surprised he could hardly speak. “How did you get here?” he asked slowly.
“Never mind that,” returned Matt. “I imagine you know what we are here for.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Really!” returned Andy sarcastically. “Well, then, let me tell you that we came for our horse and wagon and stock.”