CHAPTER IX
PRISONERS
THE farmer smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile, and it exposed half a dozen yellow fanglike teeth that made Roy wonder whether there could be any relationship between the dog and his master.
“Tell the other feller to come back,” said the farmer. “I seen him.”
“You mean you saw me,” murmured Chub, stepping into sight behind Roy.
“What’s that?” asked the farmer, suspiciously.
“How do you do?” asked Chub, affably.
“You’ll see how I do and what I do,” was the grim reply. “What you doing in my house?”
“We—we were just getting out,” answered Roy, with a sickly smile which was intended to be propitiating.
“With your pockets full, I guess. You stay where you are, understand?” He brought the shot-gun up and laid it over his arm in a sug-
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