“Your money,” said the other briefly¹.

 

Gates was a man of courage, and he answered coolly:

 

“Your answer is brief, and to the point.”

 

“I meant it to be,” said the highwayman.

 

“Suppose we object to complying with your polite request, what then?”

 

“I hold the answer in my hand.”

 

“Your pistol, I suppose.”

 

“You are perfectly² correct. You must surrender either your money or your life.”

 

The Dutchman, who had been staring open-mouthed, began to understand the condition of affairs, and was panic-stricken.

 

“Give him de money,” he said, trembling. “Take his money, good gentleman, and spare my life. I want to go home to meine Katrine.”

 

Serious as the case was, Gates could not help laughing at the naiveté of his Teutonic traveling companion.

 

“Mr. Highwayman,” he said, “I assure you it isn’t worth your while to rob me. My Dutch friend here is a great capitalist—a banker, I believe. Be content with what he will give you.”

 

Herr Schmidt was exasperated³.

 

“That is one beeg lie,” he said. “I am only a poor saloon-keeper, with a few dollars which I made by selling lager. Let me go, and I will go home to meine Katrine.”

 

“Gentlemen,” said the highwayman, “I make no exceptions. You must all empty your pockets.”

 

“Stop a minute!” said Gates, and he suddenly drew a revolver from his pocket and pointed⁴ it at the robber.

 

The latter did not appear disconcerted.

 

“That won’t avail you,” he said.

 

“Why not?” asked Gates. “We are four to two.”

 

“We shall see.”

 

The robber put a whistle to his lips and blew a

分享到：