Spangler threw a hand behind him and jerked a revolver from his hip pocket.
"Now, younker," said he, leveling the weapon, "drop yer club an' be reasonable. I'd hate like sin ter cut ye off in yer youth an' bloom, but Hank an' me ain't here fer the fun o' the thing, not noways."
Matt could see with half an eye that the man meant business, and that he would be quick to use the revolver if he had to. If the two ruffians were after the pearls, they would probably leave Matt and Carl and go away as soon as they found out they were on the wrong track. Then, if ever, was the time to do a little talking.
"What do you want?" asked Matt, throwing the club away and leaning back against the tree.
"You seen anything of a green bag?" asked Hank, still hanging to Carl.
"I've seen it, yes," answered Matt. "If that's what you want, we haven't got it."
"Where is it? Don't you lie to me—it won't be healthy for you."
"Mr. Tomlinson has got the bag," said Matt.
The man on the ground gave a jump and began to swear.