"A fine story indade," muttered Mike Marcy. "But it's not me that is going to believe that same. I've caught ye and I am going to make an example of ye!"
"Yes, Mike, don't let him go," put in Mrs. Marcy.
"You haven't any right to detain me," said Dave. "I have told you the exact truth."
"I don't believe it, and until ye can prove the tale ye'll stay here."
With this Mike Marcy took a firmer hold of Dave's collar than ever and began to drag him through the orchard towards the farmhouse.
Dave struggled, but the strong farmer was too much for him and he was compelled to go along. The farmer's wife came behind the pair, armed with a mop she had picked up at the back door.
"What are you going to do with me?" asked the youth, after a minute of silence.
"Ye'll soon see," answered the farmer.
They soon reached the barnyard attached to the farm. Here, to one side, was a smokehouse, built of stone, with a heavy door of wood and sheet-iron. The small building was open and empty.
"I'll put ye in there for a while and see how ye like it," said Mike Marcy, and shoved Dave towards the smokehouse.