“Glad to get out,” said the blonde-bearded man as he submitted to being handcuffed, “it was hot enough in thar to roast potatoes.”
“So you got scorched by the same fire you intended should destroy us,” said the chief revenue officer dryly.
“Young man,” he went on, turning to Rob, “I shall bring this bit of work to the attention of the government. In the meantime, I may tell you, that besides the five hundred dollars offered for Black Bart’s capture, there was a reward of two thousand dollars for the apprehension of the gang as a whole. I shall see that you and your companion get it.”
“But—but——” stammered Rob, “you had all the trouble and risk——”
“Hush, Marse Rob! don’ be talkin’ dat way. Dey may take dat reward away ag’in,” whispered Jumbo, whose eyes had been rolling gleefully. He could hardly credit his good fortune.
“We’re paid for our work,” said the revenue man briefly, “I’m not saying that we always get much credit for the risks we take. Half the time they don’t even mention our raids in the papers. But we do our duty to Uncle Sam and that’s enough.”
Soon after, a search having been made of the ruins of the hut, the revenue men set out with their prisoners for the lake, where they had a boat and two small bateaus. Rob and Jumbo accompanied them. Jumbo walked like one in a trance. He saw money fairly hanging to the trees.
“What will you do with all that money, Jumbo?” asked Rob amusedly as they strode along. Under the skilled leadership of the revenue men the path to the lake was a simple matter to find.
“Ah reckon’s ah’ll buy a ’mobile, Marse Rob, an’ a pair ob patent lebber shoes—dem shiny kind, an’ some yaller globes (gloves) an’—an’ what’s lef’ ober ah’ll jes’ spend foolishly.”
“If I were you I’d put some of it in a savings bank,” advised Rob, smiling at the black’s enumeration of his wants. “You get interest there, too, you know.”