Guns came down, pointing at him, and there was a clicking of locks.
“Surrender!”
“But what’s the trouble?” he demanded. “What am I to surrender for?”
“Because you’re a thief, caught with the goods on him.”
The leader, who was also a young man, pointed to the gold nugget shining in the fingers of Ben Stevens.
“Just how?” said Stevens, redder in the face than before. “Is this your property?”
“No,” was the answer, “it isn’t; but it is the property of Colonel Montrose, at Fort Cimarron; and it was given to him only a day or so ago by Buffalo Bill.”
“By Buffalo Bill?”
“Just so; and I suppose you know how you came by it!”
“Perhaps you do?”