sau, sharply. "For cutting off his
ears, monkey," growled the fellow. "Well, they wouldn't do it for
cutting off yourn, so we'll try them first."

"Yah! you daren't," cried Esau, viciously. "Don't, don't," I said.
"It's of no good."

"Not a bit," said the big fellow. "Now then, boy, where's your mate hid
his pile?"

"I don't know," I said.

"What! No lies, or--"

He clenched his fist, and held it towards me threateningly.

"I tell you I don't know, and if I did I wouldn't tell you."

"We'll soon see about that. Now then, you," he said, turning to Esau,
"where's your mate keep his pile?"

"Dunno," said Esau, laughing. "Find out."

"Oh, we can soon do that. Won't take long. Here, you, how much did you
get out of the stream every day?"

"Don't know," I said, "anything about it."

"Ho! Very good. I say, mates, who's got the sharpest knife?"

"All on us," said his principal companion--the man who was with him
first.

"Well then, we'll have his ears off, and if that don't make him speak,
his tongue ain't no use, and we'll have off that."

"You dare to touch him," cried Dean, fiercely, "and I'll never rest till
the police catch you."

"Thank ye," said the big ruffian, and one man burst into a roar of
laughter. "There, it's of no use, boys; tell us where he buried his
pile, and you shall have a handful apiece. I don't know but what we'll
let you stop in camp and cook for us. Now then, out with it."

"I told you before," I said firmly, "I don't know, and if I did I would
not tell you."

"Look here," said one of the men, "give him a taste o' Indian. That'll
make him speak."

"What d'yer mean?"

"Pull off his boots, and put his feet close to the fire to warm."

"Oh!" cried Esau, "I wish my hands were untied."

"And serve him the same," said the man who had made the proposal.
"It'll be a race between 'em who shall speak first."

"There, it's all right. Ears off last. But they're going to speak;
arn't you, boys?"

We both remained silent.

"Oh, very well," said the big fellow; "off with their boots then."

"Don't you say a word, Esau," I whispered; "it's only to frighten us."

"No, it arn't," said the big ruffian, fiercely, for he must have guessed
what I said. "It arn't done to frighten you. Off with 'em, lads, and
hold their feet close. That'll make 'em speak--or squeak," he added,
with a grin.

"It will not, you cowardly brute," I cried, desperately, "for we neither
of us k