Dick was watching his chance to get up and bolt, depending upon his speed as a football player to take him out of this dangerous company. Darrin was equally watchful---but so were the tramps. Plainly the latter did not intend to let their prey get away from them easily. As for Reuben Hinman, obeying a command, the peddler had alighted from his wagon and now sat with his back against a tree. He had no thought of trying to get away, well knowing that his aged legs would not carry him far in a dash for freedom. The peddler's wearied horse stood and dozed between the shafts. "It's about time for you younkers to be doing something," urged the boss tramp, after some minutes had slipped away. "If you'll find the strength for me to stand up," urged Dick, "maybe I can dance, or do something." "Did we muss you up as much as that?" demanded the boss tramp. "It serves you right, then. You shouldn't have meddled in our pastimes. Maybe it was all right for you fellers to get your horse and wagon back this morning, but you shouldn't have meddled to-night." "I guess maybe that's right," nodded Darrin sulkily, "but you went in too strong in getting even. You had no call to cripple us for life." "Oh, I guess it ain't as bad as that," muttered the boss tramp, though there was uneasiness in his voice. So the tramps sat and smoked about a fire that one of their number had lighted. Another fifteen minutes went by. "Come, it's time for you fellers to get busy, and give us something---songs, dances, comic recitations, or something like that. That's what we brought you here for," declared the boss, rising and prodding Darrin with one foot. But Dave gave forth no sign. His eyes were half open, yet he appeared to see nothing. "Here, what have you been doing to my friend?" demanded Dick, crawling as if feebly over to where Darry lay. "Great Scott! You haven't injured him, have you?" Dick acted his part as well as Dave did, but the boss tramp was not inclined to be nervous. "No," he retorted shortly. "We haven't done much to either of you young fellers not a quarter as much as we're going to do if you don't both of you quit your nonsense soon. Help 'em up, now." Dick allowed himself to be lifted to his feet and supported in a standing position by one of the most powerful-looking of the tramps. Darrin, however, continued to act as if he were almost lifeless. "Give him the water cure," ordered the boss tramp, in an undertone to one of his confederates. Going to the peddler's wagon the one so directed took down a pail. He went off in the darkness, but soon came back with a pail of water. Slipping up slyly, he dashed the water full in Darry's face. With a gasping cry of rage Dave Darrin started to spring to his feet. Then, remembering his part, he sank back again to the ground. "Raise him," directed the boss tramp. "He'll find his legs and stand on 'em. We are not going to let this show wait any longer!"