“That he’s bobbled, and thinks we’re some other fellows?”
“Not that, exactly, for they appear to know a whole lot about us, and our business. Where they’ve made their mistake, it strikes me, is in thinking that we’re mixed up in some affair we don’t know anything about. If that’s the case, then the fact will come out, before very long. All we’ve got to do is to wait until Tibbits comes for a talk with us.”
“I’m hanged if I want to wait!” fumed McGlory. “They’ve fooled us, they’ve got us here, and I’m a Piute if I’m going to stay!”
Jumping up, he ran to one of the two windows of the room. Pushing back the heavy hangings, he raised the lower sash. As he did so, a voice called up from the darkness outside:
“Git back in there, an’ close the winder! If ye don’t, I’ll shoot.”
The cowboy appeared dashed.
“You might have expected that, Joe,” laughed Matt. “You didn’t think, did you, that Tibbits would go to all this trouble and then leave us free to leave the house if we wanted to?”
McGlory closed the window and returned dazedly to his chair.
“Sufferin’ poorhouses!” he mumbled. “I reckon they think we’re millionaires in disguise, and that our folks will hand over a lot of money to ransom us. The laugh’s on them, and no mistake.”
“Let’s take things easy,” advised Matt, “until we can learn more about the game the gang are playing.”