The “Lizzie” was in a cleared space, just off the trail. As Nick looked down the road it had come, he easily understood how the wheel had become broken and the tires punctured.
“What did that fellow do—bring himself an’ nothin’ else?” Allen asked, as he dismounted.
“Well, we had planned to meet him here. We brought all the stuff on mules,” Nick explained. “That’s why there’s nothing in the flivver. Goin’ to get at that wheel now?”
“Soon as I get rid of this stuff. Here, put the bags in the back seat. Or wait, hand ’em to me.”
He reached out, and Nick deposited two of the bags in his large hand. Allen hefted them.
“There’s steak an’ lamb chops an’ clothes an’ plenty of shows right in this here bag,” he said musingly. “The old pay dirt!”
“You sure hit it,” Nick responded absently, bringing out another bag. “If I have half that luck I’ll be satisfied.”
“Well, we can’t all—” Allen stopped, and his fingers caressed the bag. A queer look came over his face.
“Hey, wait—” he began, and suddenly opened the bag. His eyes widened and an exclamation burst from his lips.
“Well, you double-crosser!” he roared. “Stick ’em up! Stick ’em up, quick!”