"That he did. He said it was the one desire of his life to square up with you."
"He told you that?"
"Oh, no, not me. He wouldn't dare to speak to me—I'd plug him quick. He was talking to a pal of his—fellow by the name of Gannon—Soapy Gannon they call him. He's another bad egg, but too cowardly to be very harmful. Soapy is Ruff's tool for dirty work when there ain't much danger. I was at the camp and overheard the talk between them."
"Then I had better watch out," said Mark, with a serious look on his face.
"Do so by all means. You don't want to take chances with a fellow like Sag Ruff—nor with Soapy Gannon either," went on the man, and then talked of something else.
The taste of fresh meat had made the three boys eager to try their hand at bringing down more game, and one day Mark and Bob took to a side trail, thinking they might stir up some prairie hens if nothing larger. Both had shotguns, having borrowed one weapon from Josiah Socket.
It was a cool, clear day, with a suggestion of fall in the air, and the boys felt in the best of spirits as they hurried along. They had agreed to meet Si, Dixon, and the Sockets at the ford of a river ten miles further to the westward.
"I can tell you one thing, Bob," said Mark, "this beats sitting in a stuffy office, copying legal papers."
"I can imagine so, Mark. But it's too bad you had to leave under such a cloud."
"Yes, that is the one thing that makes me sad. My step-father will never believe in my innocence."