"My clothes," he gasped. "Never!"
"I will make you."
"What! are you a thief?"
"Call me what you please, but do as I say or it will be worse for you."
The Spanish captain made a dash at Young Glory.
The latter stepped back quickly, raising his six-shooter as he did so, and pointing it at his captive.
"You are foolish," said Young Glory. "You cannot compete with me, and you ought to understand that."
What was causing the Spaniard to stare so? Not the fact that he was threatened by Young Glory's six-shooter. No, but because when Young Glory had moved backwards, his sombrero had dropped off his head, thus exposing his thick yellow curls.
"You are not a Spaniard," said Captain Calderon, astounded at the change in his captor.