"That's a plum sure thing," agreed Bart Reeder.
"Now, we're a-wantin' to do the squar' thing by ye. If thar's a gold mine 'bout, 'tain't no more yourn 'n ours—see the p'int?"
"Of course it ain't," growled Alf Griffin.
"An' so, why not be frien'ly-like, an' jine in with us?" Jim spoke persuasively. "Eh, what d'ye say?"
"It'll save ye a heap o' trouble, I'm a-thinkin'; an' don't forgit it," mumbled Tom Smull, ominously, scratching his scratched-up face.
"Listen to reason, boys," pleaded Buck James.
"Well, this is a good one!" burst out Jack Conroy, hotly. "Here you fellows have been doggin' us like so many cats, sneakin' an' spyin' about our camp—an' now! Why, thunder, it beats the Dutch—never heard o' such nerve."
"Of course we won't do it!" cried Dick.
"Eh?" snarled Tom Smull, with a threatening gesture. "Ye'd best not get too chipper, young un."
"If ye don't—" began Alf Griffin.