"Just so! You have a right to be brave with all them men at your side."
"What are you doing there, Dick Fletcher? Why don't you proceed to business?" demanded the leader impatiently.
"Empty your pockets, Stackpole!" said Fletcher in a peremptory tone.
"All right."
The Yankee plunged his hands into his pockets, and produced in succession a jackknife, a plug of tobacco, a bunch of keys, and a couple of buttons.
"Take them, Fletcher," he said, "if you want 'em more than I do."
"What do you mean with this tomfoolery?" demanded Fletcher, perceiving an impatient frown on the face of his chief. "Hand over your money."
"I guess you'll have to search me, Fletcher. You've done it before," answered Obed imperturbably. "I've mislaid my money, and you may know where it is better than I do."
Fletcher took him at his word, and proceeded to search, using some roughness about it.
"Be careful, Fletcher," said Obed. "I'm a tender plant, and mustn't be roughly handled."