Then, promoted to further investigation, he dropped back beside the
man who had been riding behind him, and as he did so he saw beneath
the fellow's cloak the butts of two villainous-looking pistols.
As Barney dropped back beside him the man turned his mount across
the narrow trail, and reining him in motioned Barney ahead.
"I have changed my mind," said the American, "about going to the Old
Forest."
He had determined that he might as well have the thing out now as
later, and discover at once how he stood with these two, and whether
or not his suspicions of them were well grounded.
The man ahead had halted at the sound of Barney's voice, and swung
about in the saddle.
"What's the trouble?" he asked.
"He don't want to go to the Old Forest," explained his companion,
and for the first time Barney saw one of them grin. It was not at
all a pleasant grin, nor reassuring.
"He don't, eh?" growled the other. "Well, he ain't goin', is he?
Who ever said he was?"
And then he, too, laughed.
"I'm going back the way I came," said Barney, starting around the
horse that blocked his way.
"No, you ain't," said the horseman. "You're goin' with us."
And Barney found himself gazing down the muzzle of one of the wicked
looking pistols.
For a moment he stood in silence, debating mentally the wisdom of
attempting to rush the fellow, and then, with a shake of his head,
he turned back up the trail between his captors.
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