"How about the
old counterfeiters' den?"
"That's the first place his friends will look for him! No, sir, we've
got to find a little retreat of our own, and one of us must guard
him. Do you know how long Ned wants to keep him?" asked Frank.
"Don't know a thing about it," was the reply. "I don't even know why
he wants him captured, or what proof he has against him."
The boys were now not far away from Bradley, and, hearing the rattle
of broken rock behind him, he turned and looked back at the boys, who
were swinging along with their hands in their pockets. He waited for
them to come up.
"Taking a little walk, eh?" he questioned, as the boys came to the
level space on the mountainside where he had paused.
Bradley seemed to be entirely unconscious of danger, for he turned
his back to the boys presently, after a few short sentences had
passed between them, and moved forward, as if to continue his way
down the slope.
"Just a minute!" Frank said, sharply, and he faced them.
Two automatic revolvers were within a foot of his head, and the eyes
of the boys back of them declared that the situation was not the
result of a joke.
"Hold out your hands!" Jimmie ordered. "We want to see if you're
toting any smoke-wagons! Push 'em out, Mister!"
Bradley did not hesitate a second.
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