"Are you satisfied?" demanded Lynch, with a smile. "I use you square, and now you must me. I had to touch up a fellow for that money, and leave my watch for security. Lost all my money betting on a football-game last week."
"Reckon they’re all right, kid. Now, we’re to squat right here, are we?"
"Get into those cedars and lay low till you hear me whistle."
"It’s rather chilly to-night, kid. I hope ther[ther] feller shows up pretty soon."
"It may be an hour, or even a little more. Keep still till then, but be ready when you hear me whistle. I’m going down the road. If others come ahead of the one I want you to do up, don’t mind them, but keep out of sight."
Having given these instructions to his tools, Lynch slipped away.
It did not take Dick Merriwell long to decide to remain right there and see the finish of the affair. After a while the dark forms of the sailors disappeared in the bushes, where they proceeded to seek to keep out the cold by frequently imbibing from a bottle one of them had brought.
Dick slipped down into a little hollow where a boulder shut off the sharp night wind, and there, with his hands in his pockets and his collar turned up, he waited.
The time passed slowly, but the boy had learned patience from his Indian tutor, and he did not fret. Finally he heard voices drawing nearer, and two persons left the highway, jumped over the fence, and started away across the rough clearing.
Dick recognized them by their voices. They were Big Bob Singleton and Tod Hubbard.