One of the men chuckled.
"Time to get up," said Ambrose grimly.
"Hey, what's the matter?" cried the voice from the bed in accents of honest alarm.
"Get up and dress," commanded Ambrose.
"What for?" stammered the boy.
"I have five armed men here," said Ambrose. "Do what you're told without asking questions. If you make a racket you'll be cracked over the head with the butt of a gun."
As he spoke Ambrose flashed the light from one to another of his men. The sight of the quiet dark-skinned breeds, each with a Winchester on his arm was sufficiently intimidating. The boy swung his legs out of bed.
"All right," he said, philosophically. "Throw your light on my clothes, will you?"
He commenced to dress without more ado. Presently he asked coolly;
"What do you want me for, and who are you anyway?"
"I'm Ambrose Doane," said Ambrose. "I've seized the flour mill.
You've got to run it."