"Oh, all right, Mark. Did you see anything worth seeing?"
"I did—and I saved Maybe Dixon some money. But I guess I've made a bitter enemy and one who is bound to do me an injury if he possibly can."
"I thought I heard some shouting," said the country boy, as he sat up in the darkness. "What was it all about?"
"I'll tell you in the morning. No use of waking Bob. I know he is tired," answered Mark, and then he turned in beside his chums. But it was all of an hour before he could get to sleep, and then he dreamed that he was out in a shower of playing cards and Sag Ruff was pursuing him with a big butcher knife. He awoke with a start, to find himself bathed from head to feet in a cold perspiration.
In the morning he told his two friends the particulars of what had occurred. He was just finishing the recital when Maybe Dixon hove into sight, with a broad smile on his rather leathery features.
"This is the boy as done it!" he cried, slapping Mark on the back. "Showed up the meanest swindler this camp ever struck."
"Where is Sag Ruff?" asked Mark.
"Gone,—an' he won't dare show his face on this trail ag'in, to my way o' thinkin'."
"I am sure I don't want to see him again."
"He'll turn up some day, when you least expect it," said Bob, and told the truth, as later events proved.