too much exhausted.

At the leader's command two men went down to the road, to watch
in both directions.

"Give the whistle---you know the one---if anyone comes along that's
likely to spoil the fun," was the ringleader's order.

Reuben Hinman had been deprived of the last dollar in money that
he had with him. Quaking and subdued, the old man obeyed the
order to mount his cart and drive the rig farther into the woods.

"Take the young gents along, and see that they behave themselves,"
directed the ringleader.

Dick and Dave did not yet feel in condition to offer any resistance
or defiance. Even with the two "scouts" out on the road there
were still six of the tramps left to take care of them.

The odds looked too heavy for another fight it when the last one
had been so unsuccessful.

As Dick and Dave got to their feet and started along, followed
and watched by the tramps, Dick tottered closer to his companion,
managing to whisper:

"We've got to gain time, Dave. Pretend to be weak---crippled---badly
hurt."

That was all. Prescott fell away again without his whisper having
been detected by their captors.

Before quitting the spot near the road the ringleader had scattered
the campfire so effectually that the embers would soon die out.

A full eighth of a mile back from the road the order was given
to Hinman to rein in his horse.

"We're far enough from the road, now, so that we ain't likely
to be spotted," said the boss tramp. "Now, let's see what these
young gents can do to amuse us. Maybe they know how to sing and
dance."

But Dick had sunk wearily to the ground, forcing his breath to
come in rapid gasps.

"Get up there, younker," ordered the boss tramp.

"You've hurt me," moaned Dick, speaking the truth, though trying
to convey a stronger impression than the facts would warrant.

"And we may hurt you more if you don't get cheerful and help make
the evening pass pleasantly," sneered the boss tramp harshly.

"Wait till I---get so---I can get my breath---easier," begged
Dick pantingly.

The boss turned to Darrin.

"Young fellow, wot can you do in the entertaining line?" demanded
the fellow leeringly.

"Nothing," Dave retorted sulkily. "After you've kicked a fellow
so that he's so sore he can scarcely move, do you expect him to
do a vaudeville turn right away?"

"Get 'em on their feet," ordered the boss tramp. "We'll show
'em a few things!"

But Dick protested dolefully, sinking back