I was silent.  I did not intend to tell a falsehood by saying I did not have it, nor did I intend to give it up if it could possibly be avoided.

“Did you hear what I said?” continued Stumpy, after a pause.

“I thought you said the paper wasn’t valuable,” I returned, more to gain time than anything else.

“Neither it ain’t, but, just the same, I want it.  Come, hand it over.”

He was getting ugly now, and no mistake.  What was to be done?

As I have mentioned before, it would have been useless to call for help, as no one would have heard the calls.

Suddenly the thought struck me to try a bit of deception.  I put my hand in my pocket and drew out the empty envelope.

“Is that what you want?” I asked, holding it up.

“Reckon it is,” he returned eagerly.  “Just toss it over.”

Somewhat disappointed that he did not approach me and thus give me a chance of attacking him, I did as requested.  It fell at his feet, and he was not long in transferring it to his pocket.

“Next time don’t try to walk over a man like me,” he said sharply.  “I know a thing or two, and I’m not to be downed by a boy.”

“Are you satisfied?” I asked calmly, though secretly exultant that he had not discovered my trick.

“Not yet.  You followed me when you had no business to, and now you’ve got to take the consequences.”

“What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see soon enough.  I ain’t the one to make many mistakes.  Years ago I made a few, but I ain’t making no more.”

“You knew my father quite well, didn’t you?” I inquired in deep curiosity.

“As the old saying goes, ’Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.’  Maybe I didn’t; maybe I did.”

“I know you did.”

“Well, what of it?  So did lots of other people.”

“But not quite as well as you and Nicholas Weaver and Mr. Aaron Woodward,” I continued, determined to learn all I could.

“Ha!  What do you know of them?” He scowled at me.  “Reckon you’ve been reading that paper of Nick’s putty closely.  I was a fool for not tearing it up long ago.”

“Why did you keep it—­ to deliver it to Mr. Wentworth?”

It was a bold stroke and it told.  Stumpy grew pale in spite of the dirt that covered his face, and the hand that held the pistol trembled.

“Say, young fellow, you know too much, you do.  I suppose you read that paper clear through, did you?”

“As you say:  Maybe I didn’t; maybe I did.”

“Perhaps you wasn’t careful of it.  Maybe I’d better examine it,” he added.

My heart sank within me.  In another moment the deception I had practised would be known—­ and then?

He fumbled in his pocket and drew forth the envelope.  He could not extract the letter he supposed it contained with one hand very well, and so lowered the pistol for a moment.