"Here is where he is hanging out," Mark told himself. "I'll remember that."
The boy went back to where he had left his mule and soon found shelter for himself and the animal. Early in the morning he went back to White Rock Gulch with his stock of provisions.
Mark had long since acquainted all of his companions with his past history and each believed thoroughly in his innocence. All listened with interest to the story he had to tell about Morgan Fitzsimmons.
"I want to know what you would do if you were in my place," said he, after he had finished. "I am satisfied in my own mind that he is the rascal who robbed my step-father."
"But what proof have you got, Mark?" asked Maybe Dixon. "You can't have a man arrested unless you have proof against him."
"I haven't any proof excepting that I saw him coming down the stairs."
"Did anybody else see him?" asked Bob.
"I do not know, but I think not."
"Then I don't see what you can do," went on Maybe Dixon. "In a court of law his word is as good as yours, commonly speaking, although the fact that he is a gambler may go against him."
"And a swindler—if you can prove that," put in Si.