The prisoner was as cool and collected as ever. Being left to himself, he strolled carelessly about the stable, examining every object in it, and occasionally directing his gaze toward the open door leading from the stable into the living-room of the cabin. Finally he leaned against one of the stalls, and when Smirker’s back was turned hastily pulled something from his pocket and tossed it into the manger—something that gave out a ringing, metallic sound as it fell. The noise, slight as it was, caught the man’s ear and aroused him from his reverie. He turned and confronted his prisoner at once.
“Nothing at all,” was the reply. “I am waiting as patiently as I can for you to explain why you have robbed me of my weapons, and are keeping me here. I assure you that my Uncle Reginald will have something to say to you about this before you are many hours older.”
“What you doing there?” repeated Smirker fiercely; “I heard something chink.”
“Perhaps it was my persuaders,” said the boy, lifting his boot and exhibiting a huge Mexican spur, ornamented with little silver bells, which tinkled musically as he moved his feet about.
“P’raps it was, and p’raps most likely it wasn’t. Haven’t I lived long enough to tell the difference between the rattling of spurs and the jingling of money? I have, I bet you. I’ll soon find out what you’ve been up to.”
Smirker walked into the stall in front of which the boy was standing, and then for the first time the prisoner began to show signs of anxiety. He closely watched the man’s movements, and cast frequent and impatient glances toward the door of the living-room, as if he were expecting and earnestly desiring the arrival of some one.
Smirker was in the stall but a few moments, and when he came out he carried in his hand a small canvas bag, at the sight of which the prisoner turned white with terror. Taking his stand under the lantern, Smirker untied the string with which the bag was fastened; but no sooner did his eyes fall upon its contents than he dropped it as if it had been a coal of fire, and his face grew livid with rage and alarm.
“Betrayed!” he roared, stamping his feet furiously upon the ground, and flourishing his fists in the air. “And, fool that I was, I might have known it! I suspected it from the beginning.”