You have made a mistake. I am not Andrew Barkswell."
"Not Andrew Barkswell?"
"No."
"Who then?"
"My name is August Bordine."
"Lord, is that so?" cried Jounce with a grin. "Didn't you just come from
the man I knifed down yonder?"
"Certainly, and you'll have that to answer for."
"Will he die?"
"I expect so."
"You wouldn't dare appear agin me?"
"I will, as you shall see."
The tramp fell back a step and made a move as if to draw a weapon, but
the muzzle of a cocked rifle cooled his ardor a little.
"Now, see here, what's the use of fooling, pardner?" whined the tramp.
"No use of it. I am in deadly earnest I assure you," returned the hunter.
"I am of the opinion that you murdered that poor girl last week, and do
you know, sir, there's a big reward offered for you dead or alive?"
"No. How much?"
"Five thousand dollars."
"No-o!"
"It's true."
"Who makes the offer?"
"The proper officer--sheriff, I suppose. Come, now; I think I will take
you into custody, and haul in that reward."
"But I ain't guilty, and you know it, Andrew."
"Andrew again--"
"No more foolin', old chap.
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