Frank drew a long pistol from its holster with an air of business. He searched carefully, but there was no more.
The fellow gritted his teeth. "If she ever hears of this, Tim's got her certain," he groaned; "but she won't never hear."
At a turn in the road his heart sank within him; for just around the curve they came upon Tim Mills sitting quietly on a stump. He looked at them with a quizzical eye, but said not a word.
The prisoner's face was a study when he recognized his rival and enemy. As Mills did not move, his courage returned.
"Good mornin', Tim," he said, with great politeness.
The man on the stump said nothing; he only looked on with complacent enjoyment.
"Tim, is these two boys crazy?" he asked slowly.
"They're crazy 'bout shootin' deserters," replied Tim.
"Tim, tell 'em I ain't no deserter." His voice was full of entreaty.
"Well, if you ain't a d'serter, what you doin' outn the army?"