Jack, of course, knew very well that Squeaky would not give the desired information as to who they were; he merely asked the question as a hint to us to pretend we did not know them.
“I’ll give you all the explanation I think proper after supper,” Squeaky replied. “But there’s one thing I want you to understand right now: if one of you tries to get up off the ground he won’t succeed; he’ll be dead first. I mean it, mind you; so you’d better sit still if you don’t want a bullet through you.”
As we had some knowledge of the peculiarities of our captor’s character we took his word for it, and having little doubt that he did mean it we sat still accordingly. Had we been dealing with Bates alone we might perhaps have made a fight for it; he seemed to be nervous and agitated. But with Squeaky it was quite another matter. He had no nerves; and we felt pretty sure that if he should think it a good stroke of business to shoot one or all of us, no tenderness of conscience on his part would withhold him.
“Pardner,” said he, addressing Bates, “round up those guns; stack ’em there against that tree, and take the cartridges out.”
Bates did as commanded, always in silence, and then Squeaky said:
“That’s good. Now, you’d better go and bring down the horses. I’ll hold the prisoners.”
Bates retired into the woods, and in a quarter of an hour reappeared, riding the black horse and leading another, both of which he proceeded to picket in a little open space below the camp.
“Which of you boys is cook?” then asked the leader of this gang of two.
“I am,” replied Percy.
“All right. Get up, then, and cook supper for five. And don’t try any tricks. I’m a pretty good shot. Pardner, take your stand by the guns.”