“Do we let him go on, Governor?”
“The bridge is down. He can't go by and we must not let him go back. We shall have to detain him and question him. I wonder the marshal let him pass.”
The cart approached at a lively trot.
“Anybody else in that cart, Mr. Annixter?” asked Magnus. “Look carefully. It may be a ruse. It is strange the marshal should have let him pass.”
The Leaguers roused themselves again. Osterman laid his hand on his revolver.
“No,” called Annixter, in another instant, “no, there's only one man in it.”
The cart came up, and Cutter and Phelps, clambering from the ditch, stopped it as it arrived in front of the party.
“Hey—what—what?” exclaimed the young butcher, pulling up. “Is that bridge broke?”
But at the idea of being held, the boy protested at top voice, badly frightened, bewildered, not knowing what was to happen next.
“No, no, I got my meat to deliver. Say, you let me go. Say, I ain't got nothing to do with you.”