For a minute or so the big storekeeper didn’t say anything. Then:
“You ain’t stuffin’ me with that bear story, are ye?”
“No; there was a bear, all right, and it was the bear that ate our grub and tore things up for us.”
“But after that, some other kind of a bear come along and swiped your guns and ca’tridges?”
“That is the way it looks to us,” Larry said.
“Well, what you goin’ to do about it?”
“We are going to buy those three second-hand Winchesters you have up in that case at the front,” Larry answered, looking the big man squarely in the eyes.
The good-natured storekeeper laughed rather grimly.
“I reckon you’ve got me dead to rights,” he said; “and I ought to ’a’ knowed better. I bought them guns from the three scalawags I was tellin’ you about; the three that was here day before yesterday. They allowed they didn’t need ’em and was tired o’ luggin’ ’em around.”
“We’ll buy them back from you,” said Dick, going into his shirt after his money belt.