closer whispered earnestly into Connie's ear. The boy shook his head.
"You know a lot about the inside, all right. I guess you've been in the service, some time or other." His voice hardened. "And so much more shame to you for turning crook, too. But, your story is too thin!" He glanced at the man's clothing. "Funny kind of uniform they wear in N Division, isn't it?"
"You don't expect a man to pose as a prospector in a scarlet tunic and a 'pill-box,' do you?"
"Don't expect one to pose as a prospector with a chicken-coop for a sluice, either. Where's your service outfit?"
"Burnt up!"
"Hard luck!" exclaimed Connie, with mock sympathy. "I suppose they furnish N Division with Marlin rifles, too?" He glanced toward the captured gun.
The man flushed. "Constable Morgan, as your superior, I order you to release me from restraint! We should be working together to round up the rest of the gang, instead of hanging around camp doing nothing!"
