believing that he had been tricked by a cunning counterfeit of exhaustion, he raised his gun and fired, just as Abner gave up the fight and fell face downward. It was then that the long-drawn-out cry was sounded and was heard by the men about to sit down to their breakfast.
Several repetitions of the cry at last brought Pete, Ben and Joe to the spot and they swore roundly that Big Nick was the greatest man-tracker in the woods.
“And to think we’ve got ’em all. Hey, old hound?” and Pete struck his hat into Abner’s face.
“I’ll see ye behind an iron grating fer that, my lad,” informed Abner in a low voice.
“Ye will, eh?” grinned Pete. “Wal, ye’ll have an eyesight that will look from a grave up here way down to the city then.”
Big Nick was standing like a piece of stone, his nostrils dilated. “You say all?” he asked, his deep voice trembling in its eagerness.
“Sure. We’ve got the kids trussed up at the southeast end of Flat-Top. Found ’em in camp there.”
Big Nick turned to Abner, his eyes glittering evilly. “You dog me away so I no find um. I pay you for that.”
