"The small bore multiplied in your absence," observed Grantham; "when I looked at the hut there were two."
"Then may be you can tell me who was the particular d——d rascal that stole them," said the settler eagerly.
Middlemore laughed heartily at his companion who observed:
"The particular d——d rascal who removed, not stole them thence, stands before you."
Again the settler looked disconcerted. After a moment's hesitation he continued, with a forced grin that gave an atrocious expression to his whole countenance:
"Well now, you officers are playing a purty considerable spry trick—it's a good lark, I calculate—but you know, as the saying is, enough's as good as a feast. Do tell me, Mr. Grantham," and his discordant voice became more offensive in its effort at a tone of entreaty, "Do tell me where you've hid my small bore; you little think," he concluded, with an emphasis then unnoticed by the officers, but subsequently remembered to have been perfectly ferocious, "what reason I have to vally it."
"We never descend to larks of the kind," coolly observed Grantham; "but as you say you value your rifle, it shall be restored to you on one condition."
"And what may that be?" asked the settler, somewhat startled at the serious manner of the officer.
"That you show us what your canoe is freighted with. Here in the bows, I mean."