Just at that instant he stepped out of the jungle, then stopped, staring with all his might.
Right in front of him crouched young Halstead. Sim was looking down into the muzzle of the hunting rifle. To him it looked, just then, like the bore of a tunnel.
“Wha—wha—what?” exploded Sim.
“You guessed right, the first time,” mocked Tom Halstead. “It’s my move, now, not yours. Are you going to be troublesome?”
“Put down that gun, an’ I’ll talk with yo’,” proposed Sim, hesitatingly.
“Instead, you put your hands up!” rang Halstead’s crisp command.
“I——”
“If you don’t——”
Tom backed three feet away, his eye looming up large as Sim caught a glimpse of it through the rifle-sights.
“You’re going to be good, aren’t you?” coaxed Tom, grimly. “If you are, you’ve only two seconds to decide. If you’re not——”