“I don’t know,” said the wounded man ruefully. “You can search me.”
“Seems from that shooting that we’d better search outside. What in the fiend’s name made him batter the door?”
“Sorry he left us, I suppose,” muttered Dean, grimly. “Knocking because he wanted to come in again.”
“How did he get his gun?”
“Hanged if I know,” said the questioned man, impatiently.
“But you were on guard. You ought to know something about it.”
“Look here,” said Jim. “There’s no use in talking. He got out some way, and he’s got his gun some way. He’s holding us up, and we must make terms with him.”
“But where is he?”
“I tell you I don’t know! The bullet came from the direction of the mine. Now, one of you boys throw up your hands, and go outside and hail him.”