“Perhaps it was my persuaders,” said the boy, lifting his boot and exhibiting a huge Mexican spur, ornamented with little silver bells, which tinkled musically as he moved his feet about.
“P’raps it was, and p’raps most likely it wasn’t. Haven’t I lived long enough to tell the difference between the rattling of spurs and the jingling of money? I have, I bet you. I’ll soon find out what you’ve been up to.”
Smirker walked into the stall in front of which the boy was standing, and then for the first time the prisoner began to show signs of anxiety. He closely watched the man’s movements, and cast frequent and impatient glances toward the door of the living-room, as if he were expecting and earnestly desiring the arrival of some one.
Smirker was in the stall but a few moments, and when he came out he carried in his hand a small canvas bag, at the sight of which the prisoner turned white with terror. Taking his stand under the lantern, Smirker untied the string with which the bag was fastened; but no sooner did his eyes fall upon its contents than he dropped it as if it had been a coal of fire, and his face grew livid with rage and alarm.
“Betrayed!” he roared, stamping his feet furiously upon the ground, and flourishing his fists in the air. “And, fool that I was, I might have known it! I suspected it from the beginning.”
“What’s the matter?” asked the boy, and his voice was as firm and steady as ever.
“What’s the matter?” shrieked Smirker, driven almost insane by his intense passion. “Do you stand there and ask me what’s the matter? It’s the last question you will ever ask me, for you are as good as a dead man already. Didn’t I say that there was something at the bottom of all this? You are White-horse Fred—that bag proves it. It contains nuggets, and gold-dust, and money—my share of the swag which I have received and sent to the fellows below. I expected to get it from that other boy, and asked him for it; but of course he couldn’t give it to me, being an imposter. And I allowed him to go off scot free, and even told him some secrets that nobody outside the band ought to know. How long will it take him to ride to the fort and tell what he has seen and heard, and lead a squad of soldiers back here? And you helped him out in it—you, a sworn member of the band! Now, you shall tell me what you mean by acting as you have done. Speak in a hurry, or I’ll choke it out of you!”
Smirker, howling out these words with a fierceness and energy which showed that he was terribly in earnest, advanced toward his prisoner in a low, crouching attitude, something like that a wild beast would assume when about to spring upon its prey.
The boy’s face was very pale, but he bravely stood his ground. Knowing that escape was impossible, he was prepared to fight desperately for his life.
“Will you tell me?” asked the robber, creeping forward with a slow, cat-like motion.