"You've no business here! Get out, or I'll shoot," cried Evarts,
defiantly.
"Don't be too quick on the shoot," warned the Blixton policeman, who still
had his own revolver in his hand. "This is a police party, and you're
under arrest. Start any shooting trouble, and the air will be full of it."
"Clear out, and I'll come outside and talk with you," proposed Evarts, for
it really was the discharged foreman.
"All right," nodded the policeman. "Gentlemen, let him step outside."
The others left the entrance to the cabin, As Evarts, his pistol now back
in his pocket, stepped sullenly outside, Harry Hazelton dropped back into
the doorway.
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Evarts," grinned the police officer, deftly slipping
handcuffs on the fellow's wrists.
"This is treachery!" stormed the prisoner. "I didn't surrender to you.
I only came out to talk with you."
"If you didn't surrender, then excuse me, and go ahead and put up a fight,"
laughed the policeman, handily removing Evarts's revolver from a hip
pocket.
"Now, look in here, Tom," urged Dick. "Do you see what caught my eye?"
Prescott pointed to a sharp-nosed cylinder, some eight feet long. Just as
it lay the propeller at the other end was invisible to one at the doorway
of the cabin.
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