Meanwhile Randy, whose temper was beginning to rise at the thought of being robbed, had quietly reached for his gun, and was fumbling with it under cover of the darkness.
An unlucky move dashed the stock against his lantern, and the crash of broken glass followed. At the same moment Batters called in a loud whisper, "Here they are. I see them movin' among the trees."
At this startling news a wailing cry broke from Nugget, and an instant later a gruff voice called distinctly:
"Come out of that one at a time, young fellars. Move lively, an' you won't be harmed."
There was dead silence for a few seconds, and then the command was repeated in a more peremptory tone.
"They ain't got no shootin' weapons," whispered Batters; "only short sticks. I can see 'em by the firelight."
On hearing this, Randy was seized with a sudden access of courage. Gun in hand, he dashed by his companions to the front of the tent.
Batters saw the glint of the weapon and made a futile grab at it.
"Don't do no shootin'," he whispered hoarsely.
The warning came too late. Randy stepped out from the flaps and raised it to his shoulder.