THE BLACK FOX SKIN
"Who is it suspects me?"
"Just Evans. And he's got good evidence. Where was you between six and seven last night?"
"In the woods. I come back and slep' here."
"Was you alone?"
"Yes."
"Then you can't prove no alibi." Joe paused.
It was at this moment that Evans, accompanied by two other forest rangers, appeared upon the scene. He had not followed the track, but had come through a patch of standing wood to the north of the hut. Quick as lightning he covered Black with his shotgun.
"Up with your hands," he cried, "or I'll put this load of bird-shot into your face."
Black scowled, but his hands went up. The man was so mad with rage that, I think, had Evans carried a rifle he would not have submitted, but the thought of the blinding charge in Evans's gun cowed him. He stood panting. At a sign, one of the rangers sidled up, and the click of handcuffs followed.
"What am I charged with?" cried Black.
"Robbery."
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