Having no idea of what was happening, not knowing whether they would be met in a friendly way or not, Jeek drew a revolver from beneath his mackinaw and led the way straight across the intervening space to the log cabin.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Thrice he rapped at the heavy door with the butt of the revolver.
“Who’s there?” came a call from within the cabin.
Jeek tried the door, but it did not yield.
“Open this door and find out!” he cried.
Inside the cabin Snadder looked at Blinky and Blinky looked back, neither able to calculate on the best defense to make, both feeling guilty.
Again came the knocking on the door with the gun.
Snadder strode to the door and threw the latch to one side, just as Jeek placed his shoulder against the strong door, and, as it swung inward, the heavy race-track follower staggered into the living room, trying to catch his balance, his arms going into the air, while the gun seemed to Snadder as large as a cannon.
Instantly the two tramps had their hands in the air, before commanded to do so, for they were plainly outnumbered and did not know what arms the other men might have nor whether such arms might be used.
“What are you guys doing here?” blurted out Jeek angrily.