“They did a fat job who brought you down here to corral us fellows,” Mauler went on derisively. “We’re too slick for any city guy of your cut. Why, I near laughed in your ugly mug, when you boarded that express car and shoved a letter from Burdick under my nose.”
“You did, eh?”
“And then you started in to tell me who you was and all about the job you were out to queer. Oh, my, but that was rich!” cried the ruffian, with a burst of coarse laughter in which his low-browed brother joined.
“Yes, very rich,” Nick allowed.
“And then you pulled out a gun and wanted to know was I game?” cried the rascal, shaking with evil mirth. “You shoved the gun right in my hand and as much as told me to hold you up. I did it all right, Carter, and we got you—as we’re going to get those two duffers who’ve been helping you.”
“Unless they contrive to get you, you miscreant,” Nick retorted, frowning.
“Don’t you bank on that,” cried Mauler, with a snort and sneer. “We’ll have both of them by this time to-morrow. We’ll wipe you off the earth, all of you, and—by thunder, Zeke, that must be Murdock already. Let’s have a look.”
The chugging of the laboring touring car, which was at that moment entering the clearing, had fallen upon the ears of all.
Sol and Zeke Mauler rushed out of the stable, and uttered a series of triumphant yells when they saw the laden car and the powerless captive it contained.
It swept around the yard back of the house and stopped nearly in front of the stable.