“The man I met in the woods!” burst from Hooker’s lips.
“Gentleman Jim, or I’ll eat my hat!” exulted Piper. “Nab him, men! He’s desperate! Don’t let him play any tricks!”
Immediately the man, who was indeed the mysterious stranger with whom Hooker had conversed, was covered by several loaded guns and commanded to throw up his hands, an order which he disdainfully obeyed.
“It won’t be necessary to shoot,” he said. “I sha’n’t offer the slightest resistance.”
“Keep him kivered,” fluttered Constable Hubbard—“keep him kivered till I put the irons on him!”
Producing a set of old-fashioned manacles, the excited constable bunglingly snapped them upon the wrists of the man.
“There!” he breathed in deep satisfaction; “we’ve got you, all right. By golly! that boy Piper is a wonder.”
“Constable,” said Sleuth, remindingly, “you mustn’t forget that it was solely through information supplied by me that Mr. James Wilson, alias Gentleman Jim, was captured. I shall lay claims to the reward offered for him.”
“I guess you’ll git your share of it, if he’s the feller you think he is.”
“He’s nobody of the sort,” excitedly asserted Fred Sage. “He’s in no way connected with the bank robbers. You’re making a dreadful blunder.”