The car crept up the slope. Lorry watched it until it had topped the ridge. Then he dismounted and turned the man over.
"What you got to say about my turnin' you loose?" he queried as the other sat up.
"Nothin'."
"All right. Get a movin'—and don't try to run. I got my rope handy."
Chapter IX
High-Chin Bob
The man's rusty black coat was torn and wrinkled. His cheap cotton shirt was faded and buttonless. His boots were split at the sole, showing part of a bare foot. He was grimy, unshaven, and puffed unhealthily beneath the eyes. Lorry knew that he was but an indifferent rider without seeing him on a horse. He was a typical railroad tramp, turned highwayman.
"Got another gun on you?" queried Lorry.
The man shook his head.
"Where'd you steal that horse?"