the rascal. "Didn't expect to run across me, did you?"
"Let go of me," cried Dick.
"Oh, I'll let go," was the sarcastic rejoinder. "You had lots of mercy on me, didn't you?"
"You started the quarrel, Joseph Farvel."
"Did I? I reckon not. You did that—when you came here after the treasure that belongs to me. Tell me—has your party found anything yet?"
"I won't tell you a word."
"I'll make you!"
"You can't do it."
"Can't I? We'll see. Come."
With brutal force the man dragged the weak and wornout lad to his camp. With some handy vines he bound Dick's hands behind him, and then fastened the youth to a slanting rock. The rock was thin and set up against a second rock, leaving an opening like the letter A beneath.
Into the opening Farvel kicked the burning embers of the fire, and then heaped on more fuel.
"Now we'll see how you feel when your legs begin to get warm," he cried. "I reckon those vines will not catch for quite awhile, they are that green."
"Would you burn me?" cried Dick, in horror.
"And why not?"
