"Turn around there," said Mark, at last, after whispering to his chum.
"What do you want of us now?" asked Ruff.
"I want you to march back the way you came, and keep up your hands."
"And if we won't do it?"
"There will be trouble, and you'll get the worst of it," answered Bob, and aimed his shotgun squarely at the gambler's head.
Muttering imprecations under his breath, Sag Ruff turned around and Soapy Gannon did the same. Then Bob lowered his gun for the moment and took the reins of the mule. Darling and the wagon were turned around and faced in the direction from whence they had come.
"Now march!" cried Mark, who still had his shotgun leveled. "And no monkey work remember, or you'll get what you won't like."
The outfit was started up, and slowly they proceeded through the timber. The trail now led from the river and they passed some rough rocks.
"Here is where we get away!" cried Sag Ruff, in a low voice. "Break for it, Soapy—it's our only chance!"
He leaped for the rocks, and seeing this his tool did the same. As they passed out of sight Mark's shotgun went off, but the boy did not have the heart to shoot straight at them and the shot merely cut through the tree branches overhead.