“Why, you see,” Belding responded, getting up now after having rubbed his chafed ankles, “it was like this: Just as soon as you got out of sight, Morgan, the Heinie began to travel. I started right after him, and he came down here into this wood. I believe I wasn’t very smart—or he was smarter than I. Guess that is pretty well proved isn’t it?” and Belding smiled wryly.
“I had in mind all the time that he had two pistols under this smock he wore, so I tried not to attract his attention. You can see I failed in my attempt.”
“How did it happen?” Whistler asked.
“I stepped on a stick. I suppose that was what put him wise to me. Anyway, the stick cracked. I jumped behind a tree. I could see him ahead of me in the path and he did not turn his head or apparently hear the crackling stick. But he must have been sharper than I thought.”
“These ’ere ’Uns,” declared Willum Johnson, “is hup to all sorts o’ tricks.”
“He was a trickster, all right,” agreed George Belding, with much disgust in his tone of voice. “I followed right along like the idiot I was, and all of a sudden the fellow disappeared. I thought he had moved faster, so I went faster.”
“And then what?” asked Al.
“I came up to the tree he was hiding behind, and he stepped out and stuck one of those pistols of his right under my nose!”
“What d’you know about that?” marveled Frenchy.
“Never had that happen to you, did you?” asked George Belding. “It’s the funniest feeling—believe me! The muzzle of the pistol was under my nose, but I felt it right at the pit of my stomach! I couldn’t do a thing, of course. You see fellows disarm an antagonist in moving pictures without getting hurt, but I wasn’t going to take a chance. I know he would have blown my head off.”