“It wasn’t us,” called back Wagstaff, “we haven’t anything against you; take all we’ve got, only spare us; you can have our guns and pistols and our money, and everything we have—”
He ceased his appeal, for at that moment he heard some one laugh.
A shuddering suspicion of the truth came over him, but before he could frame an explanation, Bill Lenman and the man who had just joined the party broke into uproarious mirth.
The youths saw how utterly they had been sold. There was no train robber. Ethan Durrell had played the part of the heavy villain in order to test the courage of these vaunting lads. The driver tried to dissuade him from the trick, afraid of the risk incurred, but, as it proved, he was never in any danger.
The boys crept back from their concealment, and, resuming their seat in front, saw that it was useless to deny the dilemma in which they were placed.
“I don’t see anything smart in a trick like that,” said Tom, angrily; “some folks have queer ideas of a joke.”
“It’s lucky for you,” added Jim, “that the lightning didn’t show you to us; I had my gun aimed and was just ready to fire, but couldn’t see clear enough to make sure of dropping you at the first shot.”
“All that I was afeared of,” said the driver, “was that you would hit one of the horses, and that’s what you would have done.”
“It would have served you right if I had.”
“But it would have been a costly job for you, young man.”