"Oh, curse the trouble; do as I bid, or I'll break your silly head."
"You see, gentlemen, I keep my money in my boots, don't you know."
"Take off your boots, then, and be quick about it."
"I can't; that is, without help. They're awfully tight, don't you know."
"Which boot is your money in?" asked the road agent, impatiently.
"The right boot."
"Hold it up, then, and I'll help you."
The road agent stooped over, not suspecting any danger, and in doing so laid down his revolver.
In a flash Mortimer Sprague electrified not only his assailants, but all the stage passengers, by producing a couple of revolvers, which he pointed at the two road agents, and in a stern voice, wholly unlike the affected tones in which he had hitherto spoken, said: "Get out of here, you ruffians, or I'll fire!"
The startled road agent tried to pick up his revolver, but Sprague instantly put his foot on it, and repeated the command.