The speech was received in absolute silence, but it lasted only until the man had recovered from a genuine case of astonishment.
“OWN UP—NOW!”
“Wal! I certainly never heard anything to beat that!” roared Dan, violently. “Take his hoss, Blimby. He’s even a heap sight worse’n the colonel let on!”
“His nerve is simply amazing!” growled the big cowboy.
“Now just look here!” protested Tom. “This way we’re not getting anywhere at all!”
“Jist the same you’ll be a-gettin’ somewhere mighty soon!” chuckled one of the others. He called to the Mexican, who, having dismounted, was surveying the scene from a little distance with a highly puzzled expression. As the man came forward, a few words spoken in the Spanish language brought a look of understanding to his face. The benevolent expression was immediately replaced by a stern, hard glare, which he leveled full on the Rambler’s face.
Two of Tom Clifton’s faults in the past had been a lack of diplomacy, which, coupled with a highly sensitive disposition, often made his words and actions misunderstood. Many lessons dearly bought, however, had at last brought about a change. And now Tom, instead of flying into a temper, accepted his unusual situation in a philosophical manner.
“I’ll tell you this much,” he said calmly. “My name is Tom Clifton. But I know where Jimmy Raymond is.”
“So do we,” said Blimby. “Say, ain’t that a book in your pocket?” He looked with a significant expression toward his companions. “Jist let’s take a peep at it, son!”