"Nobody's stopping you," one of them answered. "We haven't a place to hide him in unless he's crawled down a gopher-hole."
As a gopher is smaller than an ordinary squirrel, the point of this was evident, and while a laugh went up the policemen conferred together in front of the iron shack; then, after looking in, they walked around to the back of it. They had no doubt already noticed the cook-shed, but as it was very small and the door stood partly open, it appeared a most unpromising place for the fugitive to seek refuge. Now, however, they moved close to it, and Winthrop, sitting back in the shadow, became dimly visible.
"Come out! We've got you!" one trooper cried.
The man did not move, but he had something in his hand, which was stretched out toward the stove. One of the pot-holes in the top of the stove was open, and a faint glow shone upon the object he held clenched in his fingers. It bore, as Corporal Slaney noticed, no resemblance to a pistol.
"Come out!" he repeated. "There's no use in making trouble."
Winthrop laughed in a jarring fashion.
"I guess I'll stay a while right where I am."
Then he raised his voice.
"If you're wise you'll wait outside, Corporal."
Slaney stood still just outside the door, peering into the shed; and the trooper behind him had his carbine ready.