Max was not surprised to hear the man speak in this fashion. He had
already made up his mind, after that one good look at the other's face,
the prisoner of the barrel trap was a pretty "slick article," as Steve
would have expressed it. And caught in the act, as he had been, it was
to be expected that the fellow would have some kind of reasonable story
to spin, in order to explain his presence there.

All the same, Max did not give the yarn the least credence. Something
told him the other was deliberately lying, and the fluency with which he
delivered that remarkable story announced the self-named Jake Storms an
accomplished fakir, if ever there was one.

So Max, while not wishing to deliberately tell the man to his face that
he was a prevaricator, set about catching him in a little trap. The
others had also heard the explanation given, and were listening, with
puzzled looks on their faces; at least Bandy-legs and Steve and Toby
were, but Obed was shaking his head energetically, as though he put no
faith in fairy tales; especially when coming from such unworthy lips.

"You said you were all alone, didn't you?" demanded Max.

"Why, yes, 'course I was," spluttered the other, uneasily eying the
speaker, who was holding his light so that it shone directly on Jake's
still flushed face.

"Then what did you shout so loud for, if you didn't expect any one to
come to your assistance?" continued Max.

"Oh! say, yuh see, 'course I knowed thar was _somebody_ around. I'd just
discovered signs of a camp, and sniffed smoke. But before I had half a