"Not on your life!" remarked one of them genially; and showing to the prisoner a slip of paper which he drew from his pocket: "There's a warrant for your arrest."
Pemmican for a moment looked bewildered and murmured incredulously:—
"... my arrest?"
"Sure," replied the officer. "The chiefs begun his raid on Cradlebaugh's, and you're one of the main guys...."
Pemmican wiped his forehead and stammered sulkily:—
"And—and the prosecutor's goin' to lock me up after all I've done for him?"
"That's what!" replied the officer, and a moment later added complacently: "Unless you can get bail."
"Confound 'em!" exclaimed Pemmican. "They won't go my bail!"
The detective placed his ear quite close to Pemmican.
"Who won't go your bail?" he queried interestedly.