I couldn’t resist getting in a side-shot at Lord Ralles, who had mounted his mule and sat scowling. “The train-robbers were such thoroughgoing duffers at the trade,” I said, “that if they had left their names and addresses they wouldn’t have made it much easier. We Americans may not know enough to deal with real road agents, but we can do something with amateurs.”
“What are we stopping here for?” snapped Lord Ralles.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” I responded. “Miss Cullen, if you will kindly pass us, and then if Lord Ralles will follow you, we will go on to the cabin. I must ask you to keep close together.”
“I stay or go as I please, and not by your orders,” asserted Lord Ralles, snappishly.
“Out in this part of the country,” I said calmly, “it is considered shocking bad form for an unarmed man to argue with one who carries a repeating rifle. Kindly follow Miss Cullen.” And, leaning over, I struck his mule with the loose ends of my bridle, starting it up the trail.
When we reached the cabin the deputy told me that he had made Frederic strip and had searched his clothing, finding nothing. I ordered Lord Ralles to dismount and go into the cabin.
“For what?” he demanded.
“We want to search you,” I answered.
“I don’t choose to be searched,” he protested. “You have shown no warrant, nor—”
I wasn’t in a mood towards him to listen to his talk. I swung my Winchester into line and announced, “I was sworn in last night as a deputy-sheriff, and am privileged to shoot a train-robber on sight. Either dead or alive, I’m going to search your clothing inside of ten minutes; and if you have no preference as to whether the examination is an ante- or post-mortem affair, I certainly haven’t.”