"Not a thing."
"And you?"
The big 'Piker' stared superciliously at Smoky.
"Same here," said Smoky.
The visitors glanced at each other, slightly nonplussed. The big 'Piker' swore in his beard. "We'll arrest the hull outfit," he said decidedly, "and carry 'em in to San Lorenzy."
"You ain't, the sheriff nor his deputy," said Ransom. "What d'ye mean," he continued savagely, "by coming here with this ridic'lous song and dance? There's the door. Git!"
"You threatened to shoot Farge," said the 'Piker.' "An' it's my solid belief you done it in cold blood, too. We're five here, all heeled, and there's more outside. If you're innocent the sheriff'll let you off to-morrer; but, innocent or guilty, by Gosh, you're comin' with us to-night. Hold up yer hands! Quick!"
Ransom and Smoky held up their hands.
"Search 'em," commanded the 'Piker.'
This was done effectively. A Derringer doesn't take up much room in a man's pocket, but it has been known to turn the tables upon larger weapons. Ransom and Smoky, however, were unarmed; but the squatter who ran his hand over Smoky's pockets encountered a small cylinder, which he held up to the public gaze.