The iron gate was pushed open.
The next moment the two American boys with beating hearts stepped forward and faced this body of men, who, it was plain, believed Jack and his chum to be miscreants of the blackest sort.
CHAPTER XVII.
RAYNOR’S UNLUCKY POCKET.
It was the most unpleasant predicament of his life in which Jack now found himself. Naturally, his chum felt the same way about it. The irony of the situation was irritating.
Having chased away, at the risk of their own lives, some desperate crooks, the lads who had done all this found themselves accused of being nefarious characters.
“They are Anglise,” exclaimed one of the men as he turned a bull’s-eye lantern on them.
“No, sir, we are not. We are Americans,” exclaimed Jack proudly.
The leader of the gendarmes laughed in an amused way.