“Keep your hands up, young fellow,” commanded the marshal. “Keep back from him there!” This last to Mike Sikoria and the other spectators, who were pressing nearer, peering over one another's shoulders.
It was all very serious at the time, but afterwards, when Hal recalled the scene, he laughed over the grotesque figure of Predovich searching his pockets while keeping as far away from him as possible, so that every one might know that the money had actually come out of Hal's pocket. The searcher put his hands first in the inside pockets, then in the pockets of Hal's shirt. Time was needed to build up this climax!
“Turn around,” commanded Cotton; and Hal turned, and the Jew went through his trouser-pockets. He took out in turn Hal's watch, his comb and mirror, his handkerchief; after examining them and holding them up, he dropped them onto the floor. There was a breathless hush when he came to Hal's purse, and proceeded to open it. Thanks to the greed of the company, there was nothing in the purse but some small change. Predovich closed it and dropped it to the floor.
“Wait now! He's not through!” cried the master of ceremonies. “He's got that money somewhere, boys! Did you look in his side-pockets, Jake?”
“Not yet,” said Jake.
“Look sharp!” cried the marshal; and every one craned forward eagerly, while Predovich stooped down on one knee, and put his hand into one coat pocket and then into the other.
He took his hand out again, and the look of dismay upon his face was so obvious that Hal could hardly keep from laughing. “It ain't dere!” he declared.
“What?” cried Cotton, and they stared at each other. “By God, he's got rid of it!”
“There's no money on me, boys!” proclaimed Hal. “It's a job they are trying to put over on us.”
“He's hid it!” shouted the marshal. “Find it, Jake!”