The Young Engineers in Arizona by Hancock H Irving

Author:Hancock, H Irving [Irving, Hancock, H]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2005-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII. TOM HEARS THE PROGRAM

Throwing his arms around Tom, the bully lifted him and bore him inside, dropping him on the floor in the dark.

"He's some tough fighter," muttered Tom's assailant. "I didn't know but he'd get me."

"No; he couldn't," replied the other voice. "I was just opening the door so I could slip out and give him a clip in the dark."

"He's coming to," muttered the bully. "Ye'll have to tell me what you want done with him."

The speaker had knelt by Tom, with a hand roughly laid against the young engineer's pulse. Neither plotter could see the boy, for no light had been struck in the room.

"Pick him up," ordered the one who appeared to be directing affairs. "If he comes to while you're carrying him you can handle him easily enough, can't you?"

"Of course. Even after he knows pie from dirt he'll be dazed for a few minutes."

"Come along with him."

"Strike a light."

For answer the director of this brutal affair flashed a little glow from a pocket electric lamp.

The way led down a hallway, through to the back of the house, and thence down a steep flight of stairs into a cellar.

The man who appeared to be in charge of this undertaking had brought a lantern, holding it ahead of the man who carried Tom's unconscious form.

"Dump him there," ordered the man with the lantern.

"He's stirring," reported the fighter, after having dropped young Reade to the hard earthen floor.

"Take this then," replied the other, who, having hung the lantern on a hook overhead, had stepped off beyond the fringe of darkness. He now returned with a shotgun, which he handed to the fighter who had attacked the young chief engineer in the street.

"Do you want me to shoot him?" whispered the other huskily.

"If you have to, but I don't believe it will be necessary. The cub will soon understand that his safety depends entirely on doing as he is told."

"Say," muttered Tom thickly. He stirred, opened his eyes, then sat up, looking dazed.

"Don't move or talk too much," advised the man with the shotgun. As he spoke, he moved the muzzle close to Reade's face.

"Hello!" muttered Tom, blinking rather hard.

"Hello yourself. That's talking enough for you to do," snapped the bully.

"Was that the thing you hit me over the head with at the finish?" inquired the young engineer curiously.

"Careful! You're expected to think—not talk," leered his captor. "If ye want something to think about ye can remember that I have fingers on both triggers of this gun."

"I can see that much," Tom assented. "Why do you think that it's necessary to keep that thing pointed at me? Have you got me in a place where you feel that facilities for escaping are too great?"

The word "facilities" appeared too big for the mind of the bully to grasp.

"I don't know what ye're talkin' about," he grumbled.

"Neither do I," Tom admitted cheerily. "My friend, I'm not going to irritate you by pretending that I know more than you do.

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