You will have to cut it up into several piles, won't you?"glancing around the file of outlaws. "Or do you intend to cut the throats of these fellows instead of cutting up the reward? That would be something in your line, and quite profitable.""I'll cut your throat," threatened Big Bob, "if you don't close your yawp. Speak when you are spoken to!""All right," replied Fremont. "I'm spoken to now. Did you steal the Tolford will out of the envelope that night? If you are the heir who has been trying to get it, you certainly got a chance then."Big Bob started violently, walked rapidly for a few moments, and then dropped back to Fremont's side, just as the boy had figured on his doing. This talk of the Tolford estate seemed to be attractive to the fellow. Fremont saw that it was, but could find no reason why it should be unless, indeed, he had hit on the truth in one of his questions, and the fellow was really an heir.
"What do you know about that will?" Big Bob asked as he took step with his prisoner.
"Not a thing, except that it has been in good demand for a long time, and that it has made trouble for Mr. Cameron.""You have had charge of the Tolford papers, including the will, on several occasions? You have taken the papers to and from the bank?""Sure," answered Fremont. "Where did you learn so much?""Never mind! You would know the will if you saw it anywhere?""No; I never looked at it."
It seemed to the boy that this answer brought forth a sigh of relief from the breast of the big fellow, so he decided to keep on with his questions about the will.
"You have seen the will?" he asked.
"Never. What caused you to think I had seen it?""You talk so much about it."
Big Bob grunted and walked on in silence. Fremont turned back for an instant and swept his eyes over the slope, hoping to catch sight of one of the Black Bears. Not a friendly face or form was in sight, however, and he trudged on, wondering what line of questions would be most likely to throw the big fellow off his guard.
"Why don't you take my advice and confess?" Big Bob asked, presently.
"I might do so," Fremont replied, provokingly, "but for one thing.""And what is that?" was asked eagerly.
"I want to see the guilty man punished!"
"If you confess," the other went on, angrily, "you'll get a light sentence if Cameron lives, and a life sentence instead of the electric chair if he dies. There is always hope in a life sentence--and you are young!""Why do you ask me to confess?" demanded Fremont.
"Well, to tell you the truth," was the reply, "I have a friend who may be accused of the crime. He can't be convicted, of course, for the proof goes to show you to be the guilty one, but the cops can make him a lot of trouble and expense!""So you want me to confess and skip the country?""Yes, to skip out of the country, just as you skipped out of New York.""And permit this friend of yours, who committed the crime, to go free?""My friend did not commit the crime!" threateningly.
"Oh, yes he did! Who is your friend--yourself?"Big Bob lifted a hand as if to strike the boy, but he changed his mind, or got control of his temper, and lowered it again.
"At least," Fremont said, "you know who did commit the crime.
That is something."
The big fellow grumbled out some sarcastic reply and trudged ahead.
Fremont, knowing that a valuable point had been gained, hastened along by his side.
"And, with my false confession in your pocket," the boy went on, "you would find it convenient to leave me out there under the sand?""You're a plucky cub to talk like that to me.
Big Bob was in a great rage, but he did not lift his heavy hand again.
"I was wondering if your friend would pay for leaving me out there,"the boy said. "If I went back to New York, you know, I might deny the confession, or claim that it was secured under duress. You know what a confession is worth when secured under duress? What about it?""You're a fool!" shouted Big Bob so loudly that the others turned inquisitive faces toward him. "That was only a joke, that about my friend. I wanted to see what you would say if I asked you to confess, and then when you asked why I wanted a confession I gave you the first reason that came into my head. So shut up about it.""Sure," said Fremont, "after you give me the real reason you asked for a confession."Big Bob saw that he had made a mistake in talking with the shrewd youngster, and decided to get out of it the best way he could.
"All right! I'll tell you," he said. "A reward will be paid right down on the nail when a confession is filed with the prisoner.
Now you know all about it!"
"Your imagination is working all right to-day," Fremont laughed.
"The last explanation is more foolish than the first. You knew very well that the payment of the reward would follow conviction, and you know that I am innocent.""Why do you say that?"
"Because you know who the real criminal is."
"That is not true!" thundered the other. "Now, I've had enough of this.
You mog along and keep your mouth shut or it will be the worse for you."Fremont knew very well that Big Bob was considering a desperate means of retrieving the error he had made in speaking of a friend who might be accused of the crime. The boy was afraid that he had gone too far in his desire to provoke the big fellow.
For there would be no one to ask questions if the boy should never leave the hills alive. Unless the Black Bears were within striking distance, no one would ever know what had become of him. He looked and listened again for some signs of his friends, but the slope behind told him nothing.
