Jake was fishing in the outlet, and Matt was hiding in one of the cabins. A little fish I should not think he weighed more than a pound, judging by the bite he gave took the hook, which was baited with worms, and Jake tried to yank him out by main strength, as he had always been in the habit of doing; but the line caught between two rocks, and as Jake threw back his head and surged on me with all the muscle he had, I broke. That's all there was of it."
"And do you think that Matt Coyle will strike hands with those fellows at the outlet?" I asked, when Dead Shot had ended his story.
"He has done it already, and our friends here have undertaken a bigger job than they bargained for," answered the bait-rod. "Those vagabonds are all tarred with the same stick. They sympathize with Matt, and will hide him in their houses and help him in every way they can."
"Haven't we got force enough to go into the houses and take him out?"
"We've got the force, but not the authority.
