“No, sir; they can’t do that!” said I hastily. “We have been to every spot in the ranch,—in the cupboard, the fireplace, the beds,—and I would like to see them haul out a thing the size of that pocket-book that we have missed. I declare, it is Henderson and Coyote Bill. They’re there as big as life. Now, where did Henderson find Coyote Bill so quickly? That is what I should like to know.”
I was in something of a trap; I could see that plainly enough. If Coyote Bill should accuse me of treachery, there was only one thing he could do with me. They came up as swiftly as their horses could foot it, and I saw that one of them carried his revolver in his hand. We sat there on the porch and looked at them. Coyote Bill was the first one who spoke.
“Morning,” said he cheerfully. “Did you boys find it?”
“We found never the thing,” answered Tom. “We stayed here in hopes that you would go straight to it. We have been in every place and it isn’t there.”
“Well, you two can stand up and put your hands above your heads,” said the stranger. “We’ll begin the search by going through you first.”
“Say, Pete, you won’t find anything there,” interposed Bill.
“I’m going through them to find out,” answered Pete. “I am going to look in every nook and corner of the place before I go away. That pocket-book is here and we are going to have it.”
With one accord Tom and I arose to our feet, extended our hands above our heads, and Pete put up his revolver and proceeded to “sound” us very thoroughly. He felt in all our pockets, and run his hand over the seams of our clothing, to see if there was anything there to remind him of papers that had been stowed away.
“You needn’t be so particular,” said I. “We have been here about an hour before you came, and we haven’t had time to stow away any papers. We wouldn’t be foolish enough to do that, anyway.”
“Never you mind,” said Pete. “I am going through you. Some of you boys know where that pocket-book is, and I’m going to know too, before I get through with you.”