THE CUT-OUT UNDER THE LEDGE.
McGlory was inclined to view recent events in a humorous light.
"Speak to me about that, pard!" he laughed, when he and Matt had halted for breath, and to determine, if possible, which way Bunce had gone. "I told you what was on the programme if you became trustee for the Eye of Buddha. We never know when lightning's going to strike, or how."
"I don't like episodes of that sort," muttered Matt. "It puts us in a bad light, Joe."
"Oh, hang that part of it! We can explain the whole thing to the railroad superintendent as soon as we get back to Catskill. That section boss was a saphead. You couldn't pound any reason into his block with a sledge hammer. Forget it!"
"But you drew a gun on the section men. That makes the business look bad for us."
McGlory chuckled. "See here, pard," said he. With that, he "broke" the revolver and exposed the end of the cylinder.
There were no cartridges in the weapon!
"Now, what do you think?" laughed the cowboy. "I borrowed the gun in a hurry, and didn't think to ask whether it was loaded—and I reckon the hotel clerk didn't think to tell me. It's about as dangerous as a piece of bologna sausage, but it looks ugly—and that's about all there is to this revolver proposition, anyhow."
Matt enjoyed the recent experience, in which the harmless revolver had played its part, fully as much as his chum.