“Well, go on. What else do you know?”
“I know you had better let go this letter instantly; for if you don’t——”
Julian finished the sentence by placing his hand upon the butt of his revolver; but before he could draw it from his belt Reginald Mortimer released his hold upon the letter, and bounding forward, seized the boy by the throat, and attempted to throw him to the floor.
Julian was neither surprised nor frightened. He retained his presence of mind. His first thought was not of defense but of the letter; and having secured that by thrusting it into his bosom he was ready for the struggle. How the contest would have ended if he had been left to himself it is hard to tell; but help was close at hand. The hangings at the foot of the bed were thrust cautiously aside, and a pair of eyes appeared and looked into the room. They watched the combatants a moment and then disappeared, and shortly afterward the hangings were again raised and three figures sprung from behind them. The foremost was Silas Roper; close at his heels followed the strange horseman whom Julian had met at Smirker’s cabin; and the rear was brought up by the feeble old man, who, by simply walking across the cellar the night before, had saved our hero from being carried away captive by Richard Mortimer.
At this moment the door through which Uncle Reginald had entered was cautiously opened, and another head was thrust into the room. It was the head of Pedro, the Mexican, who, after just one glance at what was going on inside the apartment, drew back out of sight.
“The jig is danced at last,” said he to himself, as he ran along the hall, “and those of us who are found in these parts in the morning will be called upon to settle with the fiddler. It is nothing more than I expected, but I know how to block this little game.”
Pedro went straight to the stable, led out the horse Julian had brought there a short time before, and springing upon his back, rode off toward the mountains.
Silas and his friends had come into that room on business, and their actions indicated that they were disposed to waste no time in carrying it out. The trapper walked straight up to Reginald Mortimer, and seizing him by the collar and tearing his hand from the boy’s throat, threw him at full length on the floor. Julian staggered to his feet as soon as he was relieved of the weight of his antagonist, to find a pair of strong arms clasped about his neck, and to hear himself addressed in terms of endearment, to which he listened like one in a dream. Then he felt himself forced into a chair, and knew that Silas came up and shook hands with him, and that he was followed by the feeble old man, who said something that was doubtless intended for a welcome; but Julian’s mind was in such a whirl of excitement that he could not understand a word he uttered.
“What’s the matter with you, anyhow?” asked White-horse Fred, bringing his hand down upon Julian’s shoulder with a force that fairly made the boy’s teeth rattle. “Can’t you say you are glad to see me, or are you above owning a brother who belongs to a band of robbers?”
“Let me collect my thoughts a little, and then I will talk to you,” replied Julian. “I can’t quite understand all this.”