“It's a lie,” said Hal, again.
“He's got that money now!” cried the other.
And Hal cried, in turn, “They are trying to frame something on me, boys! Don't let them fool you!”
“Shut up,” commanded the marshal; then, to the men, “I'll show you. I think he's got that money on him now. Jake, search him.”
The store-clerk advanced.
“Watch out, boys!” exclaimed Hal. “They will put something in my pockets.” And then to Old Mike, who had started angrily forward, “It's all right, Mike! Let them alone!”
“Jake, take off your coat,” ordered Cotton. “Roll up your sleeves. Show your hands.”
It was for all the world like the performance of a prestidigitator. The little Jew took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves above his elbows. He exhibited his hands to the audience, turning them this way and that; then, keeping them out in front of him, he came slowly towards Hal, like a hypnotist about to put him to sleep.
“Watch him!” said Cotton. “He's got that money on him, I know.”
“Look sharp!” cried Hal. “If it isn't there, they'll put it there.”