The sequel proved that our hero had struck a warm trail the very first time trying. When Dan found himself shut up in the cabin, and Don Gordon standing between him and the door and cutting off his only way of escape, he became terribly alarmed, and confessed his guilt without waiting to be questioned. Scarcely realizing what he was doing, he broke out into loud protestations of innocence, and seizing his rifle, which stood in the corner behind him, declared that he would shoot the intruder if the latter laid a hand upon him. The threat was by no means an idle one. Dan fully intended to carry it out, but fortunately for him and all concerned, he had to deal with one who always kept a level head upon his shoulders. Before Dan had fairly ceased speaking, Don sprang clear across the cabin with one cat-like bound, seized the threatening rifle with one hand, laid hold of Dan’s collar with the other, and, bringing all his strength and skill into play, threw him to the floor with the greatest violence. In the struggle the rifle was discharged, but the bullet passed harmlessly through the roof. A few seconds later some heavy body came against the door, which was broken from its hinges, and Don’s companions came hurrying in, expecting to find him wounded or dead. They did not see how it could be otherwise, for there was not a better rifle-shot in the settlement than Dan Evans. Don quickly set their fears at rest by assuring them that he was “all right,” and at his request the boys went out again, leaving him alone with his captive.
“Now, Dan, what do you know about this miserable business?” said Don, as soon as his friends had left the cabin. “Believe me when I tell you that it will be better for you if you tell the truth. Dave is backed up by the whole United States government, and the fellows who waylaid him are bound to be captured. They cannot possibly escape.”
“I’m a hoss in the cane an’ hard to curry,” replied Dan; by which he meant that he was one who could not be easily conquered. In order to prove the truth of his assertion, he began struggling desperately; but Don seized him by both wrists, and crossing his arms upon his breast held him as if he had been screwed up in a vise.
“Answer my questions and then you can get up,” said Don, calmly. “Refuse, and I will take you before my father, who will put you in the calaboose as an accomplice in this robbery.”
“Don,” said Bert, thrusting his head in at the door, “Mrs. Evans says that Dan has been at home all the afternoon; so, of course, he could have had no hand in stealing the mail.”
“No, I didn’t, Mr. Don. I sw’ar I didn’t,” exclaimed Dan, who, finding that resistance was useless, began to shed tears copiously. “I didn’t tech that thar mail-bag.”
“I haven’t said that you did,” answered Don. “But you know who did touch it, and I want you to tell me all about it. Now be quick: who’s got it?”
“I reckon it must be Barlow,” whined Dan.
“Who’s Barlow?”
“He’s one of the fellers who was in your shootin’-box when you come thar this mornin’. He lives in that thar flat-boat that’s tied up to the river bank.”