“Hey, you feller there!”
“Well, what do you want?” growled the boy in the “trough.”
“He’s all right. I hope the boys kotch the rest of ’em. Don’t make no difference whether it’s dead or alive so long as we’ve got two of ’em.”
Stacy pricked up his ears at this. He wondered to whom they referred.
“Come out of that!” ordered one of the men.
“I can’t fall up. Take me out if you want me.”
Stacy was yanked from the “trough” with far from gentle hands, his bonds were removed, and he was permitted to walk, guarded by the men. Some little distance from the “trough” they rounded a rock and came upon a small campfire, near which sat two other men, and rough, hard-faced men they were. They eyed him with menacing eyes. Stacy did not like the looks of them.
“Who be ye?” demanded one of the two by the fire.
“Name’s Brown. Who are you?”
“What you doing up in these woods?”