“Humph! pretty good gun,” commented Jim dryly, looking the weapon over. “I’ll bet a doughnut that the owner never sees it again, though.”
“Who do you think it was?” asked Ralph.
“Old red-whiskers. We’ll look him over in the morning, and by that same token it’s pretty near dawn now. Hear the roosters? Well, as there’s no more sleep for us to-night, we might as well get up and see to the ponies. It would be just like this outfit of scallywags to try to do them some harm or even steal ’em, if your friends, the Bloods, are about.”
But the ponies, which had been turned into a corral the night previous, were found to be all right, and by the time the stars paled they had them saddled and re-entered the house. Jim banged loudly on the table of the room where they had had supper the previous night and demanded breakfast. Before long the landlord came shuffling into the room.
In the pale light they could see that under his left eye he had a big purple swelling. His hands shook, too, and altogether he appeared to be very ill at ease.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked.
“Fine,” rejoined Jim heartily. “In the night a mosquito or some other kind of low down critter bothered me, but I guess I bunged him up tolerably considerable.”
He looked at the red-bearded man with a cheerful grin, and stared him straight in the eyes. The optics of the rascal dropped. He got breakfast in sullen silence and took his pay without a word.
“Oh, by the way,” Jim shouted back to him as they rode off, “I found a gun in that attic last night. If the owner wants it, tell him to come to me, will you?”
The landlord looked at them for an instant and his florid skin turned green. He swung on his heel and fairly fled into the house.