He glanced at the other squatters, and said
laconically--
"Quite clean--as might be expected."
Ransom betrayed his surprise very slightly. He had just remembered
that he had left an empty cartridge in his rifle, and that it was not
clean.
The 'Piker' turned to him again.
"You claim that you know nothing o' this job?"
"Not a thing."
"And you?"
The big 'Piker' stared superciliously at Smoky.
"Same here," said Smoky.
The visitors glanced at each other, slightly nonplussed. The big
'Piker' swore in his beard. "We'll arrest the hull outfit," he said
decidedly, "and carry 'em in to San Lorenzy."
"You ain't, the sheriff nor his deputy," said Ransom. "What d'ye
mean," he continued savagely, "by coming here with this ridic'lous
song and dance? There's the door. Git!"
"You threatened to shoot Farge," said the 'Piker.' "An' it's my solid
belief you done it in cold blood, too. We're five here, all heeled,
and there's more outside. If you're innocent the sheriff'll let you
off to-morrer; but, innocent or guilty, by Gosh, you're comin' with us
to-night. Hold up yer hands! Quick!"
Ransom and Smoky held up their hands.
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