“I say, you know, I’ve come quietly,” he cried in a hoarse voice. “Here, put those pistols down. You haven’t served my two young chaps like that, have you?”
“Bob Tregelly?” cried Dallas and Abel in a breath.
“What’s left of him, my sons. They’ve ’most smothered me.”
“Hallo!” said the judge at the same moment. “I took you in the dark for that red-bearded fellow.”
“I was going for him when you pulled that bag over my head,” growled the Cornishman.
“Here, who has got that fellow?” roared the judge.
“We’ve got his mates,” came out of the darkness, and two men were dragged forward, struggling hard to get free.
“Here, what game do you call this?” snarled one of them, as soon as he could speak.
“Yes,” said the other. “You fools: you’ve got the wrong men.”
“I’m blessed! Ha, ha, ha!” roared the big Cornishman.