"Look, Obed," he said eagerly, "at that man on the extreme right."

Mr. Stackpole did look.

"d.i.c.k Fletcher, as I'm a living sinner!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

But at this point the leader of the bushrangers broke silence.

"Do you surrender?" he asked in brief, commanding accents.

"I think we shall have to, squire," answered Obed, to whom the demand was naturally addressed. "But I would like to ask a question or two if you don't mind."

"Go on."

"Are we prisoners of war? I didn't know for my part that there was any war in this country."

"I have no time for foolish discussion," was the stern reply. "You must give up what money you have about you."

"It's mighty inconvenient, squire. I'm a good many thousand miles away from home, and----"

"Peace, fool! Produce whatever you have of value."

"I haven't got much. You've tackled the wrong man, squire."

"Fletcher, search that man!" said the captain of the band.

d.i.c.k Fletcher dismounted from his horse, and with evident alacrity advanced to the side of the Yankee.

"I think we've met before," said Obed significantly.

"I think we have," said the outlaw, showing his teeth. "I told you we should meet again."

"I can't say I'm overjoyed at the meeting. However, I respect you more now, when you show yourself in your true colors, than when you sneaked up to me at night, and searched my pockets, pretending all the while to be a friend."

"Take care how you talk!" said Fletcher, frowning. "Yesterday you were three to one, now you are in my power."

"So you're a highway robber, are you, Fletcher? Well, I can't say I'm very much surprised. I guess that's what you're most fit for."

"Do you want me to kill you?" said Fletcher, touching his hip pocket.

"It isn't safe for you to insult me."

"Just so! You have a right to be brave with all them men at your side."

"What are you doing there, d.i.c.k Fletcher? Why don't you proceed to business?" demanded the leader impatiently.

"Empty your pockets, Stackpole!" said Fletcher in a peremptory tone.

"All right."

The Yankee plunged his hands into his pockets, and produced in succession a jackknife, a plug of tobacco, a bunch of keys, and a couple of b.u.t.tons.

"Take them, Fletcher," he said, "if you want 'em more than I do."

"What do you mean with this tomfoolery?" demanded Fletcher, perceiving an impatient frown on the face of his chief. "Hand over your money."

"I guess you'll have to search me, Fletcher. You've done it before,"

answered Obed imperturbably. "I've mislaid my money, and you may know where it is better than I do."

Fletcher took him at his word, and proceeded to search, using some roughness about it.

"Be careful, Fletcher," said Obed. "I'm a tender plant, and mustn't be roughly handled."

Every pocket was searched, but no money was found. d.i.c.k Fletcher looked puzzled.

"I can't find anything," he said to the captain.

"Rip open his clothes," said the leader impatiently. "He has some place of concealment for his gold, but it won't avail. We shall find it."

Fletcher whipped out a knife and was about to obey directions, but Obed antic.i.p.ated him.

"I'll save you the trouble, Fletcher," he said. "As you're bound to have the money, I may as well give it up. Just hand over that jack-knife, won't you?"

Fletcher hesitated, not understanding his meaning.

"Oh, I'll give it back to you if you want it, but I need it to get the money."

Upon this the knife was given back to him.

Obed cut open the lining of his pantaloons, and drew out four five-pound bank-notes. They were creased and soiled, but this did not impair their value.

"I guess that's what you were after," said Obed. "I can't say you're welcome to them, but that doesn't make any difference to you, I take it."

"Is that all you've got?" demanded the chief of the bushrangers, looking very much disappointed.

"Every cent, squire."

The leader turned to Fletcher.

"Didn't you tell us this man was well fixed?" he asked.

"I thought so," answered Fletcher, crestfallen.

"I thought you _knew_ it. Why, this is a contemptibly small sum, and doesn't pay for our trouble."

"You're right, squire," said Obed. "It aint worth carryin' away. You may as well give it back, Fletcher."

"That's a different matter," continued the captain. "Once more, is that all the money you have about you?"

"It is, squire."