"Wot do yer want?" growled the former bully of Lakeport.
"We want you," said Mr. Rush. "A fine job you have been putting up on my son and on Joe Westmore."
"Say, has them fellers been blabbin' on me?" ejaculated Marcy, angrily. The loss of all his money on the ball game had put him in a bitter frame of mind.
"I want you for stealing my sloop," came from Mr. Shale. "You needn't deny that you took the craft, for it will do you no good."
"I ain't denyin' nuthin," came from the bully. "Go on. You've got me, now do your worst. You can't git no money out o' me, for I ain't got none."
The landlord of the road-house had come out to listen to the talk.
"Who is going to pay me?" he demanded. "This chap owes me three dollars and a half for board."
"I don't know where you are going to get the money, Mr. Fells," answered Mr. Westmore.
As it was an extra warm day Dan Marcy was in his shirt sleeves, having left his coat and vest in his room.
"I'll see what he has upstairs," said Mr. Fells.