"I don't think so. As it is, the law and I are not very good friends," and Dan Baxter laughed harshly.
"I can't listen to your talk all night," put in one of the men. "March!" the latter word to the prisoners.
They had been disarmed, so there was no help for it, and they walked through the ranch to where there was a big trap-door in the floor. This was raised up, disclosing a flight of wooden steps.
"Down you go!" was the next order.
They went down, side by side, to find themselves in a narrow cellar. At a distance, they made out a light, coming from the crack of a door. A lantern was lit, and they were ordered to a passageway at the end of the cellar. Beyond was something of a cell, built of stone and heavy timbers, with a thick door that was bolted and locked.
"In you go," said one of the men, shoving Dick forward.
"Is this where you intend to keep us?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"That is for the boss to decide."
"It's a wretched place," said Sam, looking around. "It isn't fit for a dog to stay in."
"That's not my fault. You brought this on yourself," said the man.
