"You-uns, hold on!" cried the old mam.
"Hullo, what do you want?" asked Dick.
"I want for you-uns to turn around an' go tudder way."
"Isn't this the trail to Caville?"
"No, it ain't, an' you-uns can't come this way< nohow."
"Is it a private road?"
"Yes."
"Where does it lead to?"
"That ain't none o' you-uns' business," said the old man curtly. "You-uns is on the wrong road, an' have got to turn back."
"Supposing we don't turn back?" questioned Tom, who did not fancy the style in which they were being addressed.
At this, the old man tapped his gun.
"Orders is to turn 'em back, or shoot," he an* swered simply. "This are a private road. Don't ye see the wire fence?"
They looked into the brushwood and saw a single strand of wire stretched from tree to tree on each side of the trail.
"Not much of a fence," was Songbird's comment.
"It's enough, an' you-uns can't come no further."
"Maybe you live beyond," said Sam curiously.
