"Let us crawl up and take a look into the windows," whispered Dick.
"It seems to be safe enough now. If we hear anybody coming, we can
lay down in the grass or behind a bush."

Hardly daring to breathe, they crawled from the shelter of the rocks
to the nearest outbuildings, one given over to some chickens. From
there, they advanced to a cow shed and then to one of the big barns.

"I can see into the kitchen from here," whispered Sam. "Look!"

They looked, and by the light of a big bracket lamp, made out two
men and a boy moving about the kitchen, evidently preparing the
evening meal. The door to the next room was open, and they caught a
glimpse of several men at a table eating, or waiting to be served.

"I'd like to know if Dan Baxter is in that crowd," said Dick.

They watched the scene for several minutes, but if the former bully
of Putnam Hall was present he did not show himself. Then a curtain
was drawn down, shutting off their view.

They next moved to the bedroom window, and there beheld a man lying
on a couch, smoking a pipe. He seemed to be a refined individual,
with a clean-shaven face and curly black hair.

"He doesn't look as if he belonged to this crowd," was Dick's comment.
"He looks as if he might be a thorough gentleman."

"He certainly looks like a city man," answered Sam. "Perhaps he has
come to see this Sack Todd on business."

"Perhaps."

They watched the man for several minutes and saw him get a letter
from his pocket and read it attentively. Then he closed his eyes as
if to take a nap, throwing his pipe on a chair.

"Whoever he is, he is making himself at home," observed the youngest
Rover.

"Let us move on to the next window," said his brother. "Now is our
best chance to size up the place--while most of the crowd are getting
their supper."

As silently as before, they moved along in the darkness to where the
light was streaming from the third window, not far from a corner of
the ranch. Then each of the boys raised himself up with the slowness
of an Indian on a trail.

Nobody seemed to be in the room, and, growing bolder, they drew
nearer, until they could get a good view of the interior. They saw
a table and several chairs, and also a desk and a safe. On the table
was the lamp, and beside this, several piles of new, crisp bank bills.

"My gracious! Look at the money!" gasped Sam. "Why, there must be
thousands and thousands of dollars there, Dick!"

"You are right."

"Sack Todd must be very wealthy."

"Unless--" and the eldest Rover paused.

"Unless what?"

"Unless those bank bills are counterfeit."



CHAPTER XVIII

DICK AND SAM BECOME PRISONERS

"Do you really think those are counterfeit, Dick?" gasped Sam.

"More than likely. Don't you remember the machinery? That printing
press--"

"Yes, yes! It's as clear as day. This must be a regular den, and Sack
Todd--"

Sam got no further, for, at that moment, he felt himself seized from
behind. A pair of strong arms were thrown around him, so that he
could scarcely budge.

Dick was attacked in a similar fashion, and, though both of the Rovers
struggled desperately, they found that their assailants had the
advantage.

"Caught you good and proper, didn't we?" came in the voice of Sack Todd.

"Let me go!" cried Dick.

"Not much, young man. Have you got the other one, Jimson?"

"I have," answered the second man, a fellow with a long nose. "And
he won't get away in a hurry. I'm thinking."

"We had better take 'em inside," went on Sack Todd.

"Just as you say," answered Andy Jimson. "I reckon you boys remember
me," he went on with a grin.

"You are the man who was on that lumber raft that came near running
down our houseboat," said Dick.

"Struck it, fust clip. Didn't expect to meet me ag'in, did ye?"

"I did not."

"Wanted to shoot me, didn't ye?"

"Didn't you deserve it?" asked Sam boldly. "You came mighty close to
sinking us."

"Oh, that was only a bit of fun on the part o' the feller who owned
the raft. He knew what he was doin'. But I reckon you didn't know
what you were doin' when you spied on Sack and his outfit," continued
the long-nosed man sarcastically.

"They'll know what they were doing before I am through with 'em,"
said the owner of Red Rock ranch.

"What are you going to do with us?" demanded Dick.

"That remains to be seen."

"You had better let us go."

At this, Sack Todd set up a laugh of derision.

"You'll not leave here yet awhile, young man I heard what you and
your friend said just before we closed in on you. Do you suppose I
am going to let you get out and blab about what you have discovered?"

His harsh tone made both Dick and Sam shiver. They felt that they
were dealing with a hardened criminal and, most likely, one who would
stop at nothing in order to attain his object.

"I must say it was a fool move to let that money lay around loose,"
was Andy Jimson's comment, and he nodded toward the piles of bank bills.

"One of the men just brought them up, and I hadn't time to put them
away," explained the owner of the ranch. "Besides, I didn't think
there were spies around."

"Maybe there are more of them, Sack."

"That's so!" ejaculated Sack Todd. He turned to the boys: "Have you
any friends near?"

"That is for you to find out," answered Dick. "You can be sure of
one thing, though," he added. "If you don't let us go, you will get
into serious trouble."

"There was a big crowd of 'em on that houseboat," put in Jimson.

"I know there was a crowd--I met 'em some days ago. We'll march these
off and then look around and see if there are others," continued the
owner of Red Rock ranch.

As it would have been useless to struggle, the boys did not attempt
to get away. Both Sack Todd and Jimson were heavily armed, and Dick
and Sam felt that they would shoot upon the slightest provocation.

The owner of the ranch uttered a shrill whistle, and in a moment two
men came running out of the dining-room of the ranch. Each carried a gun.

"What's wanted, boss?" they asked.

"We have captured two spies," answered Sack Todd.

"Spies!"

"Yes. We want you to place them down below and then come and follow
us. We are going to see if there are any more of them around."

The two men placed their guns over their backs and took hold of Sam
and Dick.

"Don't let them slip you," added the owner of the ranch. "I reckon
they're a pretty slick pair."

"They shan't slip us; eh, Spud?"

"Nary a slip, Scutty," returned the second new-comer.

"Then you don't intend to let us go?" asked Dick.

"No."

"This is a high-handed proceeding."

"Is it? Well, down here, we sometimes take the law into our own
hands," chuckled the owner of Red Rock ranch.

"Then, if the law ever gets hold of you, it will go so much harder
with you," said Sam.

"Bah! Do you suppose I am going to argue with a kid like you?" growled
Sack Todd. "Take 'em below," he said, turning to his men.

There was no help for it, as others were coming to the scene. As the
boys marched into the ranch, they came face to face with Dan Baxter.

"Dick Rover!" gasped the bully. "And Sam! What does this mean?"

"So you know these fellows?" said one of the men.

"Of course I do. I was telling Sack Todd about them. I used to go to
school with them. What are they doing here?"

"The boss and Jimson found them spying around the place."

"Oh, I see." Dan Baxter grinned. "So you've got yourselves in a nice
pickle, eh?"

"Baxter, have you joined this crowd?" asked Dick.

The bully started.

"Why--that's my business," he stammered.

"Perhaps it is, but you might be in something better," put in Sam.

"Oh, you needn't preach to me!"

"Don't you know that these men are counterfeiters?" added Dick.

"You had better shut up, kid," put in one of the men. "You are in
our power, and the less you say, the better off you'll be, see?"

"I have spoken nothing but the truth."

"That may be so, too; but folks don't always like to hear the truth."

"What are you going to do with them?" questioned Dan Baxter curiously.

"Put them in a place we have ready for just such skunks."

"Prisoners?"

"Sure."

"Down below?"

"That's it."

Dan Baxter grinned to himself, and then leered at Sam and Dick.

"You won't like that. It's pretty musty under-ground, and wet, too."

"I'd rather go there than do what you have done, Baxter," answered Dick.

"What have I done?"

"You have joined these law-breakers; you need not deny it."

"Humph!"

"You may think it smart, but some day you'll rue it."

"I don't think so. As it is, the law and I are not very good friends,"
and Dan Baxter laughed harshly.

"I can't listen to your talk all night," put in one of the men.
"March!" the latter word to the prisoners.

They had been disarmed, so there was no help for it, and they walked
through the ranch to where there was a big trap-door in the floor.
This was raised up, disclosing a flight of wooden steps.

"Down you go!" was the next order.

They went down, side by side, to find themselves in a narrow cellar.
At a distance, they made out a light, coming from the crack of a
door. A lantern was lit, and they were ordered to a passageway at
the end of the cellar. Beyond was something of a cell, built of stone
and heavy timbers, with a thick door that was bolted and locked.

"In you go," said one of the men, shoving Dick forward.

"Is this where you intend to keep us?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"That is for the boss to decide."

"It's a wretched place," said Sam, looking around. "It isn't fit for
a dog to stay in."

"That's not my fault. You brought this on yourself," said the man.

"When a kid takes it on himself to play the spy, he must take what
comes," said the other man as he shoved Sam in behind his brother.

The cell was foul-smelling and damp, and both of the boys shivered
as they looked around them.

"Will you leave us a light?" asked the youngest Rover.

"We'll leave you nothing," said one of the men as he bolted and locked
the heavy door. "Come on, now," he added to his companion. "The boss
will be wondering what is keeping us so long."

A moment later the two men walked off, leaving poor Sam and Dick
prisoners in the dark, underground cell.



CHAPTER XIX

PETER POLL, THE DOLT

After Sam and Dick had departed, the camp in the woods seemed unusually
lonesome to those left behind.

"I wish I had gone along," said Tom, not once, but several times.

"Of da only come pack in safdy," was Hans' comment.

To pass the time, Songbird tried to make up some poetry, but nobody
cared to listen to him, and he soon subsided. The death-like quiet
felt to them as if it was the hour before the storm.

"Are you fellows going to sleep?" asked Fred as it began to grow late.

"You can go, Fred," said Tom. "I'm going to stay awake until Sam and
Dick get back."

"Then I'll stay awake, too."

To tell the truth, nobody felt like sleeping, and all huddled together
in a hollow, close to where the horses had been tethered. Wags came
and rested his head in Tom's hand.

"Old boy, you know we are worried, don't you?" said Tom, and the dog
looked up as if he understood.

It was a long time before their watches pointed to midnight. Then
Songbird stretched himself.

"I am so sleepy I can scarcely keep my eyes open," he said with a yawn.

"Then go to sleep," said Tom.

"I take a leetle nap, too," said Hans, and soon both were slumbering,
leaving Tom and Fred on guard. They wished they had a fire--it would
make things more cheerful--but they did not dare to indulge themselves,
for fear their enemies might see the light.

By the time it was three in the morning, even Fred could hold out no
longer. He dropped off, leaving Tom to keep the vigil by himself.
But soon Songbird started up.

"Have they come back, Tom?" he asked.

"Not yet."

"They must be making some wonderful discoveries. Hullo! so the others
went to sleep, too? Don't you want a nap?"

"Well, I'll take forty winks, if you'll promise to keep a good lookout."

"I'll do that. I'm as fresh as a daisy now."

Tom leaned back against a tree, and in a minute more was in slumber-land.
When the others awoke, they did not disturb him, consequently it was
some time after sunrise when he opened his eyes.

"I declare! I've had a regular sleep!" he cried. "Why didn't you wake
me up?"

"We didn't think it necessary," said Fred.

"Have they got back?"

"No."

At this, Tom's face grew serious.

"That's strange, and I must say I don't like it."

"Oh, I guess they'll show up before a great while," answered Fred.
"They couldn't travel very well in the dark. If they tried it, they'd
be sure to get lost."

Once more, they unpacked the provisions they had brought along and
made a leisurely break-fast. Then they packed their things again and
waited.

"I am going up to the top of a tree and take another look around,"
announced Tom about ten o'clock. He could scarcely stand the suspense.

"I'll do the same," said Songbird, and soon they were in the top of
a tall tree and gazing axiously in the direction of Red Rock ranch.

The place looked to be deserted.

"Not a sign of Dick and Sam anywhere," said the fun-loving Rover.

For reply, Songbird hummed softly to himself:

  "The woods and plains are everywhere,
  But for those things we do not care.
  In every nook and every place
  We look for a familiar face.
  What has become of those we cherish?
  Are they alive, or did they perish?"

"Don't go on that way, Songbird, you give a fellow the blues," cried
Tom. "If I thought Dick and Sam had perished--"

"Merely a figure of speech, Tom. I had to find a word to rhyme with
cherish, that's all."

"And such a word is rarish, I suppose," murmured Tom. "Honest, this
is no joking matter," he continued soberly.

"I know it, and I wish Sam and Dick were back."

They continued to watch the ranch and presently saw a boy come out
with a bundle under his arm and a fishing pole over his shoulder.

"There's a boy, and he is coming this way!" cried the poetic youth.

They watched the boy as long as they could and saw him turn to the
northward and take to a trail running close to a fair-sized stream.

"I think he is going fishing," said Tom. "I'd like to run across him
and question him."

They watched the boy as long as they could, and then climbed down
the tree and told the others of what they had seen.

"I am going after him," said Tom. "You stay here until I get back."

"I am going along," said Songbird, and so it was arranged.

A few minutes of walking brought them to the stream of water, and
they walked along the bank of this a distance of quarter of a mile,
when Tom called a halt.

"There is the boy now--sitting on a rock, fishing," he whispered.
"Don't scare him off."

They crept into the shelter of the trees and came out again directly
behind the boy, who had just landed a good-sized fish and was baiting
up again. He was a small boy, with an old-looking face covered with
a fuzz of reddish hair. He had yellowish eyes that had a vacant stare
in them.

"Hullo!" cried Tom.

The boy jumped as if a bomb had gone off close to his ear. His fishing
pole dropped into the stream and floated off.

"Out for a day's sport?" asked Tom pleasantly.

The boy stared at him and muttered something neither Tom nor Songbird
could understand.

"What did you say?" asked the fun-loving Rover.

"Poor fishing pole!" murmured the boy. "Now Peter can't fish any more!"

"Is that your name--Peter?" asked Tom. He saw that the boy was not
just right in his mind.

"Yes."

"Peter what?"

"No, no! Peter Poll--pretty Peter Poll, who will be rich some day--if
he does not tell all he knows," said the boy, repeating the words in
parrot-like fashion.

"Do you live at Red Rock ranch?" asked Songbird.

The boy bobbed his head up and down vigorously.

"With Mr. Sack Todd?"

Again the boy nodded.

"What do you do there?"

"Wash dishes and cook. But Peter will be rich some day--if he doesn't
tell all he knows," went on the boy. Then, of a sudden, he flapped
his two arms and crowed like a rooster.

"He is a dolt!" whispered Songbird to Tom, and the latter nodded.

"The poor fishing pole--it will be drowned," went on the dolt.

"Never mind, I'll pay you for it, Peter," said Tom, and drew a silver
coin from his pocket. "So you live with Mr. Todd. How do you like it?"

"Peter must not tell all he knows."

"Does he treat you kindly?"

"Peter gets sugar sometimes--and he is to have a pipe and tobacco soon."

"Did you see anything of two strangers last night?" continued Tom in
a sterner tone. "Two boys about my own age?"

"Peter must not tell--"

"You answer me, or it will be the worse for you!" and now Tom caught
the simple-minded youth by the collar. He did not intend to harm the
lad, but he wanted to make him speak.

"Oh, oh! let me go!" screamed the dolt. "Let me go for a hundred-dollar
bill! A brand new one!"

"A what?" asked Songbird curiously.

"Peter must not tell all--"

"You answer my question," broke in Tom, facing the boy and searching
his eyes. "Did you see those two boys last night or not?"

"Peter must not--"

"Answer!" and now Tom had the lad by the ear.

"Yes--yes--I saw them."

"Did anybody else see them?"

"Peter must not--"

"Peter, do you want to be drowned in the river?"

"No, no!"

"Then tell me all you know about the boys."

"Sack Todd will kill me! Peter must not tell--"

"Did Sack Todd see the boys?"

"Yes; he caught them--he and Andy Jimson--at the window! Peter must
not tell--"

"Caught!" gasped Tom. "Were they made prisoners?"

The boy nodded, and then crowed like a rooster once more.

"Where were the prisoners put?"

"Down, down, down--in the deep hole where the water flows--down where
they want to put Peter if he tells all he knows. But I shan't tell
anything--not a thing!" and his eyes blazed fiercely. "Not a thing!"

"Poor Dick and Sam have been captured and are prisoners in some vile
place," groaned Tom. "What will become of them?"



CHAPTER XX

AN OFFER FROM THE ENEMY

"This is a cheerful outlook, I must say. I wonder how long it is
going to last?"

The question came from Sam, after an hour had been spent in the damp
and lonely cell under Red Rock ranch.

"That is a riddle to me, Sam," answered Dick. "I don't think they
will let us go in a hurry. We have learned too much."

"Do you imagine they will find Tom and the others?"

"I hope not. If they do, we'll be in a pickle, for I guess it will
be Tom and the others who will have to get us out of this hole."

"I wish we had a light."

"I am afraid it would do us small good. This seems to have been built
for a regular prison, and I suppose the only way out is through the
door, and that is securely fastened."

The two Rovers were in no cheerful frame of mind. They realized that
Sack Todd was much exercised over the fact that they had discovered
the secret of the ranch, and what he would do to them in consequence
there was no telling.

"Perhaps we'll never get away from here alive!" cried Sam after
another talk.

"Oh, I don't think he'll dare to go as far as that, Sam. He knows we
have friends and that they will do all in their power to rescue us
or find out what has become of us."

Another hour went by, so slowly that it seemed three. Then, of a
sudden, Dick uttered an exclamation.

"I've struck a prize, Sam!"

"What is it?"

"A bit of candle."

"Humph! What good will that do, if you haven't any match?"

"But I have several matches," answered the eldest Rover, and a second
later came a faint scratch, and then the bit of candle, dirty and
mouse-gnawed, was lit.

It was not much of a light, but it was far better than nothing, and
both boys felt light-hearted when they could see each other once more.

"Let us make another examination of the hole," suggested Dick.
"Something may have slipped us before."

They went over each part of the walls with great care. On one side,
a portion of the stones was set in squarely.

"This looks as if they had at one time closed some sort of a passageway
here," remarked Dick. "I should like to know what is beyond."

"Can't we pick out one or two stones?"

"We can try."

The candle was set down on the stone flooring, close to the wall,
and the two lads started to work without delay. In a corner of his
jacket, Dick found an old jack-knife that had not been taken away
from him, and this he used on the mortar. Sam had nothing but a long,
rusty iron nail, so their progress was necessarily slow.

"Don't seem to be making much headway," observed Sam, after pegging
away for a while. "Wish we had a hammer and a cold chisel."

"If we used a hammer they could hear us, Sam."

At last they had one stone loose and pulled it out of the wall.
Holding up the light, they saw that there was a wall of plain dirt
behind it.

"Beaten!" muttered the youngest Rover, and a disappointed look came
over his face. "Dick, we have had our labor for our pains."

"I am not so sure of that, Sam."

"Why not, I'd like to know? That doesn't look much like a passageway."

"That is true, but we may be able to dig through the dirt without
great trouble, and if this spot is close to the outer wall of the
building--"

"Oh, I see," and Sam's face took on a more hopeful look. "But it
might take a long time, anyway," and his face fell once more.

They had just started to loosen a second stone, when the candle began
to splutter. They saved it as much as they could, but in five minutes
it flickered for the last time and went out, leaving them in a darkness
that seemed more intense than ever.

"We might as well continue to work," said Dick as bravely as he could.
"There is nothing else to do."

But, at the end of an hour, they had to give up the task. All of the
stones around the hole they had made refused to budge, and, as the
opening was not over eight inches in diameter, it availed them nothing.

"It is no use, Sam," said Dick finally. "We are simply wearing
ourselves out for nothing. Give it up."

Both boys were exhausted, but were too much disturbed to take a good
sleep. Yet, as they sat on a bench, the eyes of each closed, and he
took a series of naps, arousing at every unusual sound that penetrated
to the underground cell.

Overhead, everything had become unusually quiet, but toward morning
came heavy footsteps, and they heard the opening and closing of an
outer door.

"Somebody has come in," said Sam. "I wonder if it is the party that
went to look for Tom and the others?"

"More than likely. I wish I knew if they discovered anything, or if
Tom managed to keep out of sight."

Again there was silence, and once more the boys dozed off, not to
rouse up until there came the unlocking of the cell door. Sack Todd
stood there, lantern in hand, and beside him Andy Jimson.

"Hope you had a good night's sleep," said the owner of Red Rock ranch.

"Fine," answered Dick sarcastically. "Your feather beds can't be beat."

"And the quilts were extra warm," put in Sam, catching his cue from
his brother.

"Humph! Your night here doesn't seem to have tamed you down much,"
growled Sack Todd.

"I said they were gamy youngsters," came from the long-nosed man.
"They showed that when they were on the houseboat."

"I want to question you," said Sack Todd, setting down his lantern.
"How many were there in your party?"

"How many did you catch?" questioned Dick, at the same time pinching
his brother's arm to make Sam keep quiet.

"You answer my question, boy!" growled the owner of the ranch.

"Why don't you answer mine?"

"I am not here to answer questions."

"Who said I was, then?"

"You are a prisoner."

"You had better answer up, if you know what's good fern you," broke
in Andy Jimson. "Sack doesn't stand for any nonsense."

"Tell me, how many were in your party?" repeated the owner of the ranch.

"Something less than half a hundred."

"What!" The owner of Red Rock ranch leaped to his feet, and then sat
down again on a bench opposite the two Rovers. "You are fooling."

"All right; then don't question me."

"They must have organized a regular searching party," burst out the
long-nosed man. "If they did, Sack, we are in for it."

"It's all talk, Andy. They couldn't get up such a party around here.
Folks know better than to bother me. Besides, they know I am a good
spender, and they like to help, not hinder, me," and the ranch owner
winked.

"Are you boys going to tell me the plain truth, or not?" demanded
Sack Todd after a pause.

"What I want to know is: what do you intend to do with us?" returned
Dick.

"That will depend on yourselves, young man."

"Will you explain?" asked Sam.

"You came here entirely uninvited--you have got to take the
consequences."

"That doesn't explain anything," put in Dick.

"You have learned a very important secret. If that secret was given
to the world at large, it would spell ruin for me and all of my
associates," went on Sack Todd.

"That is your fault, not ours."

"Bah! Don't talk like a child, Rover. Do you think I'll allow a couple
of boys to ruin me? Not much!"

"Well, what do you intend to do keep us prisoners?"

"I must see about the others first. After that, I'll make you an offer."

"What sort of an offer?" broke in Sam.

"You'll either have to join us, or take the consequences."

"Join you!" gasped Sam and Dick in a breath.

"That is what I said."

"I'll never do it!" came quickly from Dick.

"It's foolish to think of it," added Sam. "We are not criminals."

"You had better give the matter careful consideration. If you won't
join us--" The ranch owner paused.

"What?" asked both boys.

"I shouldn't like to say. One thing is certain, though: you shall
never leave Red Rock ranch to expose us."

"That's the talk!" put in Andy Jimson. "You had better make up your
mind to join us, just as that other young fellow did."

"You mean Dan Baxter?"

"Yes."

"Has he really joined?" questioned Dick with interest.

"To be sure he has, and he'll make a good thing out of it, too."

"In what way?"

"In what way? Can't he have all the spending money he wants? What
more does a fellow need?"

"Counterfeit money, you mean?"

"What's the difference, so long as it passes?"

"Maybe you'll get caught passing it some day," said Sam.

"It is not likely. We are careful, and the money made here is very
close to the real thing."

"Don't tell the kids everything," broke in Sack Todd.

At that moment there came a shrill whistle from the top of the stairs
leading to the cell.

"Hullo! I'm wanted!" cried the owner of Red Rock ranch. "Come on,
Andy, we'll finish this talk some other time." And he stepped to the
doorway. Both were soon outside, the door was fastened as before,
and off the men hurried, leaving Sam and Dick in anything but a
comfortable frame of mind.



CHAPTER XXI

THROUGH THE FOREST

The knowledge that Sam and Dick had been made prisoners by those at
Red Rock ranch was most discouraging to Tom and Songbird.

"They are in a hole in the ground," said the fun-loving Rover. "That
must mean that they are in some sort of dungeon."

"More than likely they have a place for prisoners at the ranch,"
returned Songbird. "The question is, now that we have learned so
much: what's to do about it?"

"We must rescue Sam and Dick."

"That may be easier said than done, Tom. My idea is, the fellows at
the ranch are desperate characters--horse thieves, or worse."

"No horse thieves there!" burst out Peter Poll, who had listened to
the talk in wonder. "Sack Todd is rich--piles of money, piles. But
Peter must not tell all he knows!" he added with a whine.

"So Sack Todd is rich?" questioned Tom.

"Piles of money--fine bank bills, I can tell you! Some day Peter will
be a millionaire! But Peter must not tell--"

"Say, perhaps this dolt isn't telling the truth," cried Songbird.
"He seems to be more than a button short."

"Button, button, who's got the button!" sang out the foolish boy.
"Played that once--lots of fun. Let us play now." And he started to
pull a button from his jacket.

"Come with us, Peter," said Tom. "Come, we won't hurt you."

"Where do you want Peter to go?"

"Not very far away. Come, we will give you something nice to eat."

Now, as it happened, eating was one of the dolt's weak points, and
he readily consented to accompany them. Without loss of time, they
made their way back to where Fred and Hans had been left.

"Hullo! who vos dot?" ejaculated the German youth as they hove in sight.

"This is a boy we picked up along the stream," answered Tom, and then
drew the others aside and told his story.

"What are you going to do next?" questioned Fred seriously. "It is
certainly too bad Sam and Dick are prisoners. We must take care that
we are not captured."

"The mystery of the ranch grows deeper," said Songbird. "I rather
wish we had some officers of the law to consult. We could then ride
right up to the ranch and make our demands."

"It may come to that before we get through," answered Tom.

"That dolt may not be telling the truth, Tom."

"Well, he has told some truth anyway, for if Sam and Dick are free,
why don't they show up here?"

They did their best to make Peter Poll tell them more concerning
himself and those at the ranch. But the foolish boy was growing more
and more suspicious, and would scarcely answer a question.

"Peter wants the fine eating you promised him," said he, but when
they spread before him the best the camp afforded, he broke into a
wild laugh of derision.

"Call that good!" he shrieked. "That is nothing! You ought to see
one of the spreads at the ranch--especially when the men from
Washing-ton and Chicago come down. Everything of the best to eat and
to drink! This is plain cowboy food. Peter wants something better--roast
lamb, peas and pie!"

"This is the best we have, Peter," said Tom. "I am sorry you do not
care for it. So they have feasts at the ranch, eh?"

"Peter must not tell all he knows." The foolish boy started up. "Peter
is going."

"Don't go yet!" cried Tom.

"Peter must go to the other ranch--boss told him so--after he got
through fishing. Going now." And, with a sudden jerk, he tore himself
loose and was off like the wind among the trees.

"Hi!" cried Songbird. "Hadn't we better stop him?"

Tom was already after the dolt. But the foolish boy seemed to have
legs like those of a deer for swiftness, and before they realized it
he was out of sight. He knew how to run with but little noise, so it
became almost impossible to follow him.

"Will he go back to the ranch, do you think?" asked Fred after the
momentary excitement was over.

"He said something about going to the other ranch," returned Tom.
"What he meant by it, I don't know."

"Well, he is gone, so we shall have to make the best of it," went on
Fred. "I trust, though, that he doesn't get us into trouble."

The boys sat down in the temporary camp, and there Tom and Songbird
gave all the details of how they had fallen in with Peter Poll.

"I suppose those rough characters make him do all sorts of dirty
work," said Fred. "The boy isn't really responsible."

After a long consultation, it was decided to leave the neighborhood
and move to the other side of Red Rock ranch. This would tend to
throw the enemy off the trail, if the dolt should go back and relate
what had occurred.

"Dis vos gitting so interesting like a story book," was Hans' comment.
"I only vish I could see der last page alretty!"

"We all wish that," laughed Tom. "Then we'd know if the villain dies
and the girl marries the millionaire," and this sally brought forth
a short laugh.

The things were packed rapidly, and soon they were on horseback and
leading the steeds Sam and Dick had ridden. They had to ford the
stream where the dolt had been captured, and here the horses obtained
a refreshing drink.

"Some day I suppose this whole forest will fall before the woodman's
ax," remarked Songbird. "Too bad!" and then he murmured to himself:

  "The sturdy woodman with his ax
  Will strike full many a blow,
  And as the chips go flying fast
  He'll lay these giants low,
  Until the ground is bare and void
  Of all this grateful shade--"

  "And then the planter beans can plant
  With plow, and hoe, and spade," finished Tom. "Beans would pay better
than trees any day."

"Beans!" snorted Songbird in disgust. "What have beans to do with
poetry?" and he walked ahead so that he might make up his verses
without further interruption.

They soon found the ground getting very rough, and the tangle through
which Sam and Dick had passed made them do not a little complaining.

"Mine cracious! How long vos dis to last, hey?" cried poor Hans as
he found himself in a tangle from which he could not escape. "Hellup,
somepody, oder I ton't vos git out of dis annyhow!"

"Hans is stuck on this brushwood," sang out Fred. "He loves it so he
can't bear to leave it."

"This way, Hansy, my boy," came from Tom. "Now then, a long pull, a
strong pull and a pull altogether!"

With might and main he hauled on the German boy's arm, and with a
tearing sound Hans came loose and almost pitched forward on his face.

"Hi! hi! let go alretty kvick!" he bawled. "Mine clothes vos most
tore off of me." He felt of his trousers and the back of his jacket.
"Too pad! Da vos full of vinders now!"

"Never mind, Hansy, you need the openings for ventilation," returned
Tom smoothly.

"Vendilations, hey? Vot you know about him, hey? I vos look like a
ragpickers alretty!" And he surveyed the damaged suit dubiously.

"Now is the time to have your picture taken," suggested Fred. "You
can send it to your best girl, Hans."

"I ton't vos got no girls."

"Then send it to your grandma," suggested Tom blandly. "Maybe she'll
take pity on you and send you a new suit. That would suit, wouldn't it?"

"I ton't vos do noddings, but ven ve go to camp again, I make you
all sit town und blay tailors," answered the German boy; and then
the whole crowd pushed forward as before.

They had to cross a tiny brook, and then began to scramble over some
rather rough rocks. This was hard work for the horses, and a consultation
was held regarding the advisability of leaving them behind.

"I would do it in a minute," said Tom. "But it may not suit us to
come back this way."

"Yes, and we may need the horses to ride away on," put in Fred.
"Supposing those men on the ranch come after us? We can't get away
very well on foot, and, if we could, we wouldn't want to leave the
horses behind." And so it was decided to go slowly and take the steeds
along.

It was growing dark, and they were afraid they were in for another
storm. So far, there had been no breeze, but now the wind began to
rush through the trees with a mournful sound.

"If it does come, it will surely be a soaker," announced Tom when he
got to an opening where he could survey the sky. "Perhaps it will
pay us to stay in the shelter of the forest."

"Yes, and have the lightning bring a tree down on us," added Fred.
"None of that for me."

They were still among the rocks when it began to rain. At first, the
drops did not reach them, but, as the storm increased, the water
began to fall in all directions from the branches.

"We must find some shelter, unless we want to be soaked," said Fred.
"Hullo, just the thing! Couldn't be any better if we had it made to
order."

He pointed to a spot where the rocks arose to a height of twenty or
more feet. Low down was an opening leading to a hollow that was very
like a cave.

"That will do first-rate," returned Tom. "It is large enough for the
whole crowd."

"Too bad the horses can't get in, too," said Fred. "But maybe a
wetting won't hurt them in this warm weather."

The steeds were tied close by, and then the boys ran for the shelter
under the rocks, followed by Wags. They had just reached it when the
storm broke in all its violence, and the rain came down in torrents.



CHAPTER XXII

IN A SNAKES' DEN

"Just in time, and no mistake," remarked Songbird as he surveyed the
scene outside. "No use of talking, when it rains down here, it rains!"

"Well, a rainstorm isn't a picnic party," returned Tom. "I wouldn't
care so much if I wasn't so anxious to hear from Sam and Dick."

"Dot is vot ve all vonts," broke in Hans.

They crouched in the back of the shelter, so that the rain might not
drive down upon them. It was a steady downpour for half an hour, when
it began to slacken up, and the sun looked as if it might break
through the clouds once more.

"We won't be detained so long, after all!" cried Fred.

"I am just as well satisfied," began Tom, and then gave a jump. "Boys,
look there! Did you ever see anything like it?"

They looked in the direction pointed out, and each one sprang up as
if he had received an electric shock, while Wags began to bark
furiously. And small wonder, for directly in front of the shelter
was a collection of snakes numbering at least thirty or forty. They
were black, brown and green in color and from two to four feet in
length. Some were lying flat, while others were curled up in various
attitudes.

"Snakes!" faltered Fred. "And what a lot of them!"

"Dere ain't no choke apout dis!" gasped Hans, his eyes almost as big
as saucers. "Vot shall ve do?"

"Get your pistols, boys!" came from Songbird, and he drew his weapon.

"Don't shoot!" and Tom caught the other by the arm. "If you kill one
snake, the others will go for us sure. What an awful lot of them!
This locality must be a regular snakes' den."

"If they come in here, we'll all be bitten, and if they are poisonous--"
Fred tried to go on, but could not.

"There is no telling if they are poisonous or not," returned Tom.
"One thing is sure, I don't want them to sample me," and the others
said about the same.

What to do was at first a question. The snakes lay about ten feet
from the front of the shelter and in a semicircle, so that the boys
could not get out, excepting by stepping on the reptiles or leaping
over them.

"They are coming closer!" exclaimed Fred a moment later. "It looks
as if they were going to tackle us, sure!"

"I have a plan," cried Tom. "Come here, Hans, and let me boost you up."

The others understood, and while the fun-loving Rover gave the German
boy a boost, Songbird did the same for Fred.

The edge of the cliff of rocks was rough, and, when hoisted up, Hans
and Fred were enabled to grasp at several cracks and projections.
They laid hold vigorously and soon pulled themselves out of harm's way.

By this time, the snakes had wiggled several feet closer to the
shelter. Evidently, it was their den and, while they wished to get
in, they did not know exactly what to do about the intruders.

"Can you get a hold?" questioned Songbird as he stood on a flat rock
and raised himself into the air a distance of two feet.

Tom was already trying to do so, and soon he was crawling up the edge
of the cliff. As the rocks were slippery from the rain, it was by no
means an easy or sure task. But he advanced with care, and soon joined
Fred and Hans at the top.

"I am glad we are out of that!" exclaimed Fred. "Ugh! how I do hate
snakes!"

"I think everybody does," returned Tom. "Hi, Songbird!" he called
out. "Coming?"

"I--I guess I am stuck!" was the gasped-out answer. "The rocks are
too slippery for me."

"We'll give you a hand up," sang out the fun-loving Rover, and got
down at the edge of the rocks.

"Look out that you don't slip over," came in a warning from Fred.

"Of you go ofer, you land dem snakes your head on," put in Hans.

The words had scarcely been uttered, when there came a wild shriek
from Songbird. The poetic youth had lost his hold and slipped to the
ground below. He came down directly on top of three of the snakes,
and with an angry hissing they whipped around him.

"Songbird has fallen on the snakes!"

"Run for your life!" sang out Tom. "There goes Wags!"

And Songbird did run the moment he could regain his feet. One snake
got tangled up in the boy's legs and was carried along, whipping one
way and another. But it soon lost its hold and then wiggled through
the grass to rejoin its fellows. In the meantime, the dog had
disappeared.

"Are you safe?" called out those at the top of the cliff.

"I--I--guess so," came in a panting answer. "But two of them did--did
their be-best to bite me!"

"Bring the horses around while you are about it," said Tom, and then
the three on the cliff walked around to rejoin Songbird. When they
reached him, they found the poetic youth trembling from head to foot.

"Never had such an experience in all my life," said he. "Why, I came
down almost headfirst on those snakes! I never want such a thing to,
happen again."

"I've got no use for snakes," said Tom. "I don't know what they are
good for, excepting to scare folks."

"I believe they rid the land of many insects."

"Say, Songbird, I tole you vot," put in Hans, with a twinkle in his
eye now that the danger was past. "You vos make a nice poem up apout
dem snakes, hey?"

"A poem on snakes?" shivered Songbird. "Ugh! the idea is enough to
give one the creeps!"

The rain had now ceased completely, and soon they were leading their
horses forward as before. It was very wet in the brushwood and, as
far as possible, they kept to the open spaces. The outlook was
certainly a dismal one, and the boys felt in anything but a good humor.

"Our little trip to Mr. Denton's ranch isn't panning out so beautifully,
after all," remarked Fred. "I thought we were going to have the nicest
kind of an outing. All told, I rather think I would prefer to be back
on the houseboat."

Presently they came' out on a road in the rear of Red Rock ranch.
There was a ditch to cross, and then a line of thorns, which gave
all more than one scratch.

Suddenly they were startled by a shot, fired at a distance. Another
shot soon followed.

"What does that mean?" cried Fred. "Where's the dog?"

"Perhaps Sam and Dick are trying to escape," returned Songbird.

"I hope nobody is shooting them," put in Tom. "I must say," he added,
"I don't like this at all. The dog is gone."

"Hadn't we better place the horses in the woods and investigate?"

"No, we'll take the horses along, and if there is trouble, we'll use
our pistols," answered Tom firmly.

They advanced with caution, and soon came to where the road made a
turn westward. Tom uttered an exclamation of surprise, and not without
good reason.

"Man--on the road--flat on his face!"

"Is he a spy?"

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know," answered Tom. "Go slow--we may be running into a trap."

They advanced with caution. Not another soul seemed to be in sight,
and presently they stood over the man. He was breathing heavily.

"Looks like a planter," observed Fred, noticing the apparel the
stranger wore. "What's the matter with him?"

"Perhaps he was shot. Let us turn him over."

This they proceeded to do, and then, without warning, the man sat up
and rubbed his eyes. His wig and beard fell off, and to Tom's
astonishment there was revealed James Monday, the government detective.

"Mr. Monday!" cried the boy. "How in the world did you get here?"

"Wha--who are you?" stammered the man. "Wha--what hit me?"

"I don't know what hit you. I am Tom Rover. Don't you remember me?"

The government official looked perplexed for a moment, and then his
face brightened.

"To be sure I remember you, Rover," he stammered. "But I am all in
a twist." He brushed his hand over his face. "I thought I was down
and out, as the saying goes."

"Did you fire those shots?"

"I fired one shot. The other was fired by a man who ran away. I
believe the villain wanted to take my life. The bullet struck a rock
and then struck and stunned me, and I keeled over."

"And the man ran away?"

"I suppose so. You didn't see him, did you?"

"No."

"Where are you bound?" went on the government official curiously.

"We are looking for my two brothers, Sam and Dick. They went over to
the ranch yonder, and we have heard that they are being held prisoners."



CHAPTER XXIII

JAMES MONDAY TAKES A HAND

After that, there was nothing to do but to tell their story in detail,
to which the government official listened with close attention. Then
he asked them many questions.

"You are certainly in hard luck," said he when they had finished.
"Beyond the slightest doubt, those men at the ranch are desperate
characters, and I don't know but what I ought to summon help and
arrest them on the spot."

"Den vy not do dot?" asked Hans. "Ve vill hellup, too."

"If those men are what I take them to be, I want to catch them
red-handed,'' responded James Monday.

"What do you take them to be?" asked Tom.

"Can I trust you boys to keep a secret?"

"Yes," came from each of the crowd.

"Then I'll tell you. Unless I am very much mistaken, the men at Red
Rock ranch are counterfeiters."

"Counterfeiters!" came in a chorus.

"So I believe. I may be mistaken, but all the evidence I have points
in that direction. I have been following this trail from Philadelphia,
where I caught a fellow passing bad twenty-dollar bills. He confessed
that he got the bills from a fellow in Washington who claimed to be
printing them from some old government plates. That story was, of
course, nonsense, since no government plates of such a bill are
missing. I followed the trail to Washington, and there met a crook
named Sacord. He, so I discovered, got his money from two men, one
the owner of this ranch. Where the bad bills were manufactured was
a mystery, but, by nosing around, I soon learned that the owner of
the ranch never allowed strangers near his place, and that he sometimes
had strange pieces of machinery shipped there. Then I put two and
two together and came to the conclusion that the bad bills were
printed here. Now, I want to prove it, and not only round up the
gang, but also get possession of the bogus printing plates. If the
government don't get the plates, somebody may keep on manufacturing
the bad bills."

"In that case, it is just as important to get the plates as the
criminals," put in Songbird.

"Well, this stumps me," declared Tom. "No wonder they kept chasing
us off."

"And no wonder Sam and Dick were made prisoners," added Fred.

"I hope the rascals don't do them harm," said Tom. "If I thought
that, I'd be for moving on the ranch without delay."

"I think your brothers will be safe enough for the time being," came
from James Monday. "I am sorry that you let that dolt get away from you."

"If we had thought it of such importance, we should certainly have
kept him a prisoner," replied Songbird.

"I was watching my chance to get into the ranch house unobserved,"
continued the government official. "That shot rather floored me. But
I am going to get in, some way," he added with determination.

"Listen, I think I hear somebody coming!" cried Songbird.

"Let us get to the side of the road," said James Monday.

They did as advised, the boys mounting their horses and the government
official donning his wig and false beard and taking Sam's steed. Soon
they were stationed behind a pile of rocks.

"It's a wagon that is coming!" said Tom a minute later. "I can hear
the wheels scraping on the rocks."

"I think I'll investigate on foot," said James Monday, and slipped
to the ground once more. Soon the wagon came in sight. It was pulled
by a team of strong looking horses and was piled high with boxes. On
the seat sat an old man.

"Hullo, there!" called out the government official, stepping along
the trail in the direction of the turnout.

The old man was evidently startled, and he pulled up with a jerk. As
he did so, the boys rode a little closer.

"Hullo, stranger! What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you," responded James Monday.

"What about?" and the old man began to grow uncomfortable.

"Where are you bound?"

"What do ye want to know fer?"

"I am curious, that's all, friend. Are you afraid to answer me?"

"No, I ain't. I'm bound fer Red Rock ranch."

"What have you on the wagon?"

"All sorts o' supplies that came in on the railroad."

"What's your name?"

"Bill Cashaw. It seems to me you're a curious one, you are."

"Do you belong in town, or out here?"

"In town, o'course. Hain't I lived there nigh sixty-four years?"

"Do you work steadily for Sack Todd?"

"No. I do a leetle drivin' now an' then, that's all. But, see here--"

"Do you know all the others at the ranch?"

"Most on 'em. I don't know the new fellers much."

"Did you intend to stay at the ranch?"

"You mean to-night?"

"Yes."

"Not unless Sack asked me to stay. He's queer about that, you know."
The old man glanced at the boys. "Quite a party o' ye, hain't there?"

"You state positively that you do not belong to the crowd at the
ranch?" resumed the government official.

"I said so. But, see here, stranger--"

"Please get down off that wagon," went on James Monday quietly.

"Eh?"

"I said get down off that wagon."

"What fer?"

"Because I want you to."

"Say, are this a hold-up?" cried the old man in renewed alarm. "If
it are, I hain't a-goin' to stand fer it, an' let me say that Sack
Todd will be after you-uns bald-headed fer it!"

"This is not exactly a hold-up," said the detective with a faint
smile. "Get down and I will explain. If you try to resist, you'll
only get into trouble."

"Suppose I'll have to obey," groaned the old man as he climbed down
from the seat. "You-uns are five to one on this. I'm like the coon
an' Davy Crockett--I know when ter come down out o' the tree. But I
don't understand your game, stranger."

"As I said before, I don't intend to hurt you, Mr. Cashaw. But I am
after certain information, and I rather think you can aid me in
getting it."

"What you want to know?"

"In the first place, I want you to tell me all you know about Sack
Todd. What does he do at his ranch?"

"Humph! Don't ask me, fer I don't know. An' if I did--"

"And if you did--"

"Sack's been a putty good friend ter me, stranger. Lent me a hundred
dollars onct, when a fire had cleaned me out. A feller don't feel
much about hurtin' his friend."

"That is so, too. Then you really don't know what is going on at the
ranch? Come now, speak the truth," and James Monday's voice grew stern.

"Well, it's some sort o' patent, I guess. Sack don't want folks to
git onto it. Reckon it's a new-fangled printing press--one to run by
electristity--or sumthin' like that."

"He told you that, did he?"

"Yes. But I hain't goin' to answer no more questions," went on the
old man, and started to mount the wagon seat again.