“I shouldn’t if I were you. It makes me laugh when I think how you must have looked when you found out it was nothing but common rock.”
“How much does it weigh?” inquired Colson, in a tone of curiosity.
“Somewhere between fifty and five hundred pounds. Are you thinking of attacking the guard? I wouldn’t if I were you. They are prepared for gentlemen of your kind. You’d be more likely to carry off lead than gold.”
“Confound the fellow!” thought Colson. “He looks as if he had the best of me—I must worry him a little.”
“Do you know that you are in a very ticklish position?” he asked.
“I can’t say it’s a position I fancy much. Did you put our friends here on the track?”
“Yes, I did,” answered Colson, in a tone of satisfaction.
“I thought so. That identifies you with them, Colson. You may find it used against you in a court of justice.”
“I am no more a bushranger than you are,” said Colson uneasily.
“I would respect you more if you was, Colson. They’re open and aboveboard, anyway. You want to profit by the same means, but sneak out of it and say you’re not a bushranger. It’ll be hard to persuade the courts of that.”