The weapon he was so anxious to recover had been given him by his old commander, and for this reason, and also because the revolver was a very handsome and valuable one, he was willing to expose himself to the risk of capture in order to recover it.
The opposition he met with from a “beardless boy”—as he styled Walter—irritated and surprised him. He was fifty pounds heavier than Walter, and he had expected that a mere boy would give in almost immediately. But he saw that he had misjudged the lad. He was little more than a boy in years and appearance, but he evidently had a man's courage and spirit. Ranney would have secured another revolver if he had not felt so certain of recovering his own. After his last failure he began to consider what course to adopt.
It was easy to find out the professor's route. He knew that he was to stay a night at Stilwell, and to Stilwell he went. He did not venture into the village until nightfall, and then, for reasons easy to divine, he abstained from visiting the hotel.
Looking about for a confederate, his attention was drawn to a boy of sixteen who was sawing wood in front of a humble cottage half a mile from the village.
“I see you know how to work,” said Dick Ranney, affably, as he leaned carelessly against the fence.
“I know how, but I don't like it,” answered the boy, pausing in his task.
“I don't blame you. I don't like that kind of work myself.”
“I guess you don't have to do it now,” answered the boy, glancing at the neat and expensive attire of his new acquaintance.
“Well, no; I can do better.”
“Are you in business?”