"If you do you'll be shot!" added several others. Filled with rage and fear, Sag Ruff dragged himself from the pond and hurried out of sight behind a nearby row of tents. As he went on he had to pass the outfit belonging to our friends. He caught sight of Mark just going into the tent. "Look here, sonny!" he hissed, in a voice full of hate and bitterness. "I shan't forget you, and some day I'll square up! Don't forget, I'll square up!" And then the darkness of the night swallowed up his form. "Who is there?" asked Si, rousing up in his sleep. "It is all right, Si, I'm just getting back." "Oh, all right, Mark. Did you see anything worth seeing?" "I did--and I saved Maybe Dixon some money. But I guess I've made a bitter enemy and one who is bound to do me an injury if he possibly can." "I thought I heard some shouting," said the country boy, as he sat up in the darkness. "What was it all about?" "I'll tell you in the morning. No use of waking Bob. I know he is tired," answered Mark, and then he turned in beside his chums. But it was all of an hour before he could get to sleep, and then he dreamed that he was out in a shower of playing cards and Sag Ruff was pursuing him with a big butcher knife. He awoke with a start, to find himself bathed from head to feet in a cold perspiration. In the morning he told his two friends the particulars of what had occurred. He was just finishing the recital when Maybe Dixon hove into sight, with a broad smile on his rather leathery features. "This is the boy as done it!" he cried, slapping Mark on the back. "Showed up the meanest swindler this camp ever struck." "Where is Sag Ruff?" asked Mark. "Gone,--an' he won't dare show his face on this trail ag'in, to my way o' thinkin'." "I am sure I don't want to see him again." "He'll turn up some day, when you least expect it," said Bob, and told the truth, as later events proved. "Mark, I owe ye something for saving my money," went on Dixon. "I don't want anything," was the prompt answer. "The boys got together after the rail-ridin' an' duckin' was over," went on Maybe Dixon. "They made up a purse. Here it is--and you've got to take it." Dixon handed over the "purse," which proved to be a red bandana handkerchief. Inside was a card on which were written the names of sixteen men who had contributed to the fund. With the card was sixty dollars, in bills and silver. "You've got to keep it," said the man "from everywhere." "If ye don't the boys will be mad." "All right, I'll keep it, then," said Mark. "I am very much obliged and I'll tell them so, when I meet them." And he kept his word. The sixty dollars came in very handy, for funds all around were running low again.