In the meantime Jimmie way trying in every way he could think of, without revealing his presence, to catch Fremont's eye and make him understand that help was at hand, and that he ought to reveal his identity and so create delay, as well as escape whatever cruelty the big fellow had in store for the boy he was being mistaken for.
"I'll give you three minutes, Nestor," the leader finally said, "to tell me where the papers are.

At the end of that time, if you remain obstinate, I'll order you shot.

Decide!" Jimmie twisted and wiggled about until he became fearful that the noise he was making must disclose his presence, but Fremont did not cast a look in his direction.

The leader stood grimly in the foreground with watch in hand.

The seconds seemed to Jimmie to be running by like a mill-race.
"Two minutes." Fremont's face did not change, except for a slight tightening of the lips.