Joe moved uneasily. He had accepted the invitation to sit down, but his manner was not at all confidential.
"Why, of course I do, Paul," Joe presently observed, slowly, "I know you're always ready to help any fellow who gets in trouble. There ain't a better friend in the whole troop than you are to everybody. But what's got you now? Have I been a doin' anything I hadn't ought to?"
"You know it isn't that, Joe. I wanted to speak to you about that tin box your father said was taken from him that night."
"Oh, was that it?" remarked Joe, faintly, and catching his breath.
"You believe that I'd like to help get it back for him, don't you?" demanded the young patrol leader.
"I remember hearing you say you'd be glad to have a hand in recoverin' it; and I guess you meant it every time, Paul," came the reply.
"Well," Paul continued, "perhaps the chance may come to me up here on Rattlesnake Mountain, Joe. It would be queer now, wouldn't it, if, in coming up to this country we just happened to land on the chap who was in your father's store that night, and put out the lamp after he had picked up that little old tin box, eh?"
Joe seemed to have some difficulty in answering.
He appeared to be swallowing a lump in his throat as though it threatened to choke him.
"Why, yes," he presently managed to mutter, "that would be funny now, for a fact. My dad'd like mighty well to get that stuff back, Paul, sure he would."