g we can do. We can throw Sellersville
into the river."

Dancing and Scott were gone half an hour. The report, when they
returned, was not encouraging. "It is a bunch of cutthroats from
Medicine Bend, colonel," said Bob Scott.

"All friends of yours, I presume, Bob," returned Stanley.

The scout only smiled. "John Rebstock is there with his following. But
the boss, I think, is big George Seagrue. He is mean, you know. George
has got two or three men to his credit."

"Are we enough to clean them out, Bob?" inquired Stanley impatiently.

Scott looked around and his eye rested for a moment on Dancing. He
hitched his trousers. "There's about thirty men down there. I expect,"
he continued reflectively, "we can take care of them if we have to."

Stanley turned to the sergeant of his troopers. "Pitch a permanent
camp, sergeant. There will be nothing to take us any farther up the
river."

As Stanley gave the order Bucks noticed that Dancing winked at Scott.
And without the meaning glances exchanged by the lineman and the
scout, Bucks would have understood from Stanley's manner that he meant
strong measures. Stanley sent a further message to the contractor, and
the foreman, followed by his convoy of humanity, started on. The
soldiers, foreseeing a lively scene, stripped their pack-horses and
set at work pitching their tents.

Leaving four men in camp, the engineer, accompanied by his escort,
rode down the bluffs and, striking a lumber road, galloped rapidly
through the poplar bottom-lands toward the gamblers' camp. It was an
early tour for human wolves to be stirring, and the invaders clattered
into Sellersville before they attracted any attention.

A bugler, however, riding into the middle of the settlement, sounded a
trumpet call, and at the unwonted notes frowsy, ill-shaped heads
appeared at various shanty doors and tent-flaps to see what was
doing. Stanley sent one man from door to door to notify the inmates of
each shelter to pack up their effects and make ready to move without
delay.

Five troopers were detailed to guard three gambling tents that stood
together in the middle of the camp, each of these being flanked by
smaller dens. Word was then passed to the gamblers and saloon-keepers
to line up on the river front.

Stanley regarded the gathering crowd with a cold eye. Scott, who stood
near Bucks, pointed out a square-shouldered man with a deep scar
splitting one cheek. "Do you know that fellow, Bucks?" he