"No, we can't," shouted Gashford, fiercely. "These mean pilferers have
become a perfect pest at the diggin's, an' we intend to stop their
little game, we do, by stoppin' their windpipes when we catch them.
Come, don't shilly-shally any longer, Paul Bevan. He's here, and no
mistake, so you'd better hand him over. Besides, you owe us something,
you know, for coming to your help agin the redskins in the nick of
time."

"Well, as to that I _am_ much obliged, though, after all, it wasn't to
help me you came."

"No matter," exclaimed the other impatiently, "you know he is here, an'
you're bound to give him up."

"But I _don't_ know that he's here, an' I _can't_ give him up, cause
why? he's escaped."

"Escaped! impossible, there is only one bridge to this mound, and he has
not crossed that since we arrived, I'll be bound. There's a sentry on
it now."

"But an active young feller can jump, you know."

"No, he couldn't jump over the creek, unless he was a human flea or a
Rocky Mountain goat. Come, since you won't show us where he is, we'll
take the liberty of sarchin' your premises. But stay, your daughter's
got the name o' bein' a religious gal. If there's any truth in that
she'd be above tellin' a lie. Come now, Betty, tell us, like a good
gal, is Tom Brixton here?"

"No, he is not here," replied the girl.

"Where is he, then?"

"I do not know."

"That's false, you _do_ know. But come, lads, we'll sarch, and here's a
cellar to begin with."

He laid hold of the iron ring of the trap-door, opened it, and seizing a
light descended, followed by Bevan, Crossby, Flinders, and one or two
others. Tossing the lumber about he finally rolled aside the barrels
ranged beside the wall, until the entrance to the subterranean way was
discovered.

"Ho! ho!" he cried, lowering the light and gazing into it. "Here's
something, anyhow."

After peering into the dark hole for some time he felt with his hand as
far as his arm could reach.

"Mind he don't bite!" suggested Paddy Flinders, in a tone that drew a
laugh from the by-standers.

"Hand me that stick, Paddy," said Gashford, "and keep your jokes to a
more convenient season."

"Ah! then 'tis always a convanient season wid me, sor," replied Paddy,
with a wink at his companions as he handed the stick.

"Does this hole go far in?" he asked, after a fruitless poking about
with the stick.

"Ay, a long way. More'n a hundred yards," returned Bevan.

"Well, I'll