A mud-covered man stood
before the trapped fugitives, a huge revolver in his hand, the muzzle of
which, even though it wobbled painfully, was uncomfortably close to Mr.
Crosby's nose.
"Throw up your hands!" said Brown, his hoarse voice shaking perceptibly.
Crosby's hands went up instantly, for he was a man and a diplomat.
"Point it the other way!" cried the lady, with true feminine tact. "How
dare you!--Oh, will it go off? Please, please put it away! We won't try
to escape!"
"I'm takin' no chances on this feller," said Brown grimly. "It won't go
off, ma'am, unless he makes a move to git away."
"What do you want?" demanded Crosby indignantly. "My money? Take it, if
you like, but don't be long about it."
"I'm no robber, darn you."
"Well, what in thunder do you mean then by holding me up at the point of
a revolver?"
"I'm an officer of the law an' I arrest you. That's what I'm here for,"
said Brown.
"Arrest me?" exclaimed Crosby in great amazement. "What have I done?"
"No back talk now, young feller. You're the man we're after, an' it
won't do you any good to chew the rag about it.
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