"Nor yours, either," answered Matt. "I'm taking charge of it for Tomlinson."
This remark about Tomlinson seemed to take Pringle's breath.
"Who's Tomlinson?" he asked, trying to play the innocent.
"You know."
"Some one's been stringing you."
"You're trying it now, Pringle, but it won't work."
Carl, leaning out of the tonneau, was waving a revolver.
"Py shiminy, Matt," he called, "here I vas heeled all der time und forgot aboudt it. Dis gun pelongs mit der Drymore feller. Shtep avay vile I draw some beads on dot gangle-legged hide-rack, vat you got along."
"Put that up!" said Matt sternly. "If it went off, I'd be in as much danger as Pringle. That rope that was used to lash the wheel is wrapped around the foot-rest in the tonneau. Get it, and we'll tie Pringle's hands."
"What are you mutts trying to do?" demanded Pringle. "You ain't got no call to handle me like this."