The furtive toiler turned like a flash, and, seizing the rifle which leaned against the wall near at hand, sprang out and levelled it at the intruder whose head was visible above the rock, for he had been too much surprised to move.
"Put up yo'r hands!" he cried, and Donald complied with the order without perceptible hesitation, at the same time pushing into full sight. The man below was Judd!
For a moment neither spoke, and the silence was pregnant with serious possibilities. Then Donald regained partial control of his shaken self-possession, and with his hands still held above his head, slid awkwardly down into a sitting posture on the edge of the bank.
"Do you know, Judd," he remarked at last, with an assumption of coolness. "I thought that sort of thing had ceased to exist, even in these wild mountains," and he nodded toward the distillery.
"I allows thet yo' hev er habit of thinkin' wrong," was the surly response. "You haint no doctor man. Thet's er blind. Yo' be er revenuer, I reckon, an' es sich I've got ter put er bullet inter ye."
"Don't be a fool," snapped Donald, even in this dangerous predicament unable to resort to conciliatory words when addressing Judd. "I'm nothing of the sort, and you know it."
There was another spell of nerve-racking silence. Then the outlaw said slowly, "I reckon yo' speaks ther truth. Yo' haint smart ernough fer er revenuer. One er them wouldn't come er still-huntin' 'thout er rifle-gun, an' with er barkin' dawg."
"Well, I'm glad that's settled," answered Donald, uttering a forced laugh. "My arms are getting tired, held up like this, and, as you have a rifle and I haven't, I suggest that I be allowed to resume a more natural position."
Without waiting for the permission, he dropped his hands to the bank beside him.
Donald's action placed Judd in an obviously unpleasant dilemma. He knew it, and therein lay the intruder's best chance.