“Hold on a minute there, Bob,” Jack said. “Hadn’t you better look yourself? He may have another gun in that roll.”
“Right you are, son, I never thought of that. How about it, Nip? Got another gun there?”
“No, I got no more gun,” the man grumbled.
“Well, seeing as how your word doesn’t mean anything, I’m not going to take any chances on it,” Bob declared as he picked up the roll.
“You made a mighty lucky guess, Jack,” he declared a moment later, holding up an automatic which he had found in the pack. “If he’d got hold of this little plaything he might have had the drop on us again.”
The pack contained a small supply of provisions and a mess kit such as is used in the army. There was little else, an old woolen shirt and two pairs of thick socks. Bob had about concluded that the man did not have the deed after all, when, as he picked up the shirt, he felt something in the pocket.
“Here it is, I guess,” he shouted as he drew out a long envelope which had been folded over in the middle.
With eager fingers he pulled out the paper, and the next moment gave vent to a whoop of joy as he saw that it was the missing deed.
“I guess this’ll put a crimp in Big Ben’s plans,” he cried, as he thrust it in the inside pocket of his shirt. “I told you you wouldn’t get a cent for it,” he said, turning to the infuriated man. “This is one time when it would have paid you to have been on the square. And now,” he added, turning to Jack, “we’ve got what we came for and we’ll be beating it back.”
“You will give me back one of the guns before you go?” Nip whined.