"Who is running this camp?" demanded the officer curtly. The men looked at one another. A fat, slow-moving man with small blue eyes and a wheezy voice answered: "Why, no one in particular, colonel. We're just a-camping in a bunch. What's a-matter? Seagrue here," he nodded to a sharp-jawed companion, "and Perry," he added, jerking his thumb toward the scarred-faced man, "and me own these two big tents in partners." "What's your name?" "My name's Rebstock." "Produce the axes stolen here from these two men," said Stanley, indicating the choppers behind him. There was a jangle of talk between Rebstock and his associates, and Perry, much against his inclination, was despatched to hunt up the axes. It was only a moment before he returned with them. Rebstock, with a show of virtue, reprimanded Perry severely for harboring the men that had stolen the axes. "Sorry it happened, colonel," he grumbled, after he had abused the thieves roundly in a general way, "and I'll see it doesn't happen again. We can't watch everybody in a place like this. Tell your men," he continued, expanding his chest, "to leave their axes with me when they come to Sellersville--what?" The assurances were lost on Stanley. "Rebstock," said he, in a tone that Bucks had not heard before from him, "take your personal effects, all of you--and nothing else--and load them on a flatboat. I will give you one hour to get-out of here." Rebstock almost fell over backward. He wheezed in amazement. There was an outburst of indignant protests. A dozen men clamored at once. Perry rushed forward to threaten Stanley; others cursed and defied him. "Who are you, and what do you mean giving orders like that?" demanded Seagrue, confronting him angrily. "No matter who I am, you will obey the orders. And you can't take any tents or gambling apparatus or liquors. Pack up your clothes and camp stuff--nothing else--and get out." If a bombshell had dropped into Sellersville, consternation could not have been more complete. But it became quickly apparent that not all of the gang would surrender without a fight. The leaders retreated for a hurried consultation. Rebstock walked back presently and confronted Stanley. "What's your law for this?" he demanded, breathless with anger. Stanley pointed to the ground under their feet. "What's your title to this land, Rebstock? It belongs to the railroad that those ties belong to. Where is your license from the United States Government to sell whiskey here? You are trespassers and outlaws, with no rights that any decent man ought to respect. You and your gang are human parasites, and you are going to be stripped and sent down the river as fast as these flatboats will carry you."