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The bully started.
"Why--that's my business," he stammered.
"Perhaps it is, but you might be in something better," put in Sam.
"Oh, you needn't preach to me!"
"Don't you know that these men are counterfeiters?" added d.i.c.k.
"You had better shut up, kid," put in one of the men. "You are in our power, and the less you say, the better off you'll be, see?"
"I have spoken nothing but the truth."
"That may be so, too; but folks don't always like to hear the truth."
"What are you going to do with them?" questioned Dan Baxter curiously.
"Put them in a place we have ready for just such skunks."
"Prisoners?"
"Sure."
"Down below?"
"That's it."
Dan Baxter grinned to himself, and then leered at Sam and d.i.c.k.
"You won't like that. It's pretty musty under-ground, and wet, too."
"I'd rather go there than do what you have done, Baxter," answered d.i.c.k.
"What have I done?"
"You have joined these law-breakers; you need not deny it."
"Humph!"
"You may think it smart, but some day you'll rue it."
"I don't think so. As it is, the law and I are not very good friends,"
and Dan Baxter laughed harshly.
"I can't listen to your talk all night," put in one of the men.
"March!" the latter word to the prisoners.
They had been disarmed, so there was no help for it, and they walked through the ranch to where there was a big trap-door in the floor.
This was raised up, disclosing a flight of wooden steps.
"Down you go!" was the next order.
They went down, side by side, to find themselves in a narrow cellar.
At a distance, they made out a light, coming from the crack of a door. A lantern was lit, and they were ordered to a pa.s.sageway at the end of the cellar. Beyond was something of a cell, built of stone and heavy timbers, with a thick door that was bolted and locked.
"In you go," said one of the men, shoving d.i.c.k forward.
"Is this where you intend to keep us?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"That is for the boss to decide."
"It's a wretched place," said Sam, looking around. "It isn't fit for a dog to stay in."
"That's not my fault. You brought this on yourself," said the man.
"When a kid takes it on himself to play the spy, he must take what comes," said the other man as he shoved Sam in behind his brother.
The cell was foul-smelling and damp, and both of the boys s.h.i.+vered as they looked around them.
"Will you leave us a light?" asked the youngest Rover.
"We'll leave you nothing," said one of the men as he bolted and locked the heavy door. "Come on, now," he added to his companion. "The boss will be wondering what is keeping us so long."
A moment later the two men walked off, leaving poor Sam and d.i.c.k prisoners in the dark, underground cell.
CHAPTER XIX
PETER POLL, THE DOLT
After Sam and d.i.c.k had departed, the camp in the woods seemed unusually lonesome to those left behind.
"I wish I had gone along," said Tom, not once, but several times.
"Of da only come pack in safdy," was Hans' comment.
To pa.s.s the time, Songbird tried to make up some poetry, but n.o.body cared to listen to him, and he soon subsided. The death-like quiet felt to them as if it was the hour before the storm.
"Are you fellows going to sleep?" asked Fred as it began to grow late.
"You can go, Fred," said Tom. "I'm going to stay awake until Sam and d.i.c.k get back."
"Then I'll stay awake, too."