“Is that so!” exclaimed Westy and more for something further to say than anything else continued, “Your old friends, the bulls, are just coming up the trail now with a nice pair of bracelets for you. Are you going to throw that money box up here?”
“I can’t!” said Ollie, visibly pale. “It’s too heavy.”
“Very well,” said Westy, master of the situation at once. “I’ll hand you the rope and you can tie it around the box, so we can haul it up.”
“Aw-right!” said Ollie, his teeth chattering now. “Are the bulls there now?”
“Coming!” said Westy.
He kept the rifle pointed directly at him, as Artie struggled with the heavy steel box coming over the precipice. When it had landed safely, Artie carried it back a way on the Cliff. Westy, his curiosity aroused, drew back from the precipice to look at the incentive of all the trouble. He and Artie were conversing in low tones about the weight of the box.
“Say, Wes,” asked Artie very softly, “what made you say that?”
“About the bulls?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I just hit the nail on the head too. I suppose though it must have been my own common sense told me that Ollie was a criminal before, or he wouldn’t have done such a low, despicable thing to poor Ol’ Pop.”