CHAPTER XX
A PRISONER
Tom was in sort of a daze for the first few moments following theunexpected and violent attack on him, an attack culminating in hisbeing bound so that he could hardly move.
Dimly, and almost uncomprehendingly, he heard voices murmuring abouthim--he could hear the voices of men above the howl of the gale thatseemed to continue with unabated fury.
Gradually Tom's senses cleared. The haze that seemed to envelope hismind passed away and he began to realize that he must not submit dumblyto this indignity. He first strained lightly at his bonds, as if totest them. The sack was still over his head, so he could not see, andthere was a horribly stuffy and suffocating feeling about it.
Tom's effort to loosen his bonds, slight as it was, had the effect ofstarting his blood up in a better circulation, and this helped him tothink better and more quickly.
"I've got to get out of this!" he told himself energetically. "Thiswon't do at all! I wonder who the scoundrels are who have caught methis way?"
But Tom did not stop then to argue out that question. He wanted todevote all his time to getting himself loose. With that in view, he putforth all his strength. He was lying on his back, in a bank of snow, hejudged, and he now strained his arms and legs with all his might.
But he might just as well have saved his strength. Those who had tiedthe bonds about him knew their evil business well, and poor Tom waslike a roped steer. Not only was he unable to loosen the bonds on hisarms and legs, but he found the effort hurt him, and made him almostsuffocate, because of the gag and the closeness of the bag over hishead.
Then he heard voices speaking again.
"He's coming to," said someone--a vaguely familiar voice.
"Yes, but he'll have to come a great deal harder than that to getaway," was the answer, and someone chuckled. Tom wished he could hitthat person, whoever he was. His gun had either fallen or been knockedfrom his hand at the first attack.
"Well, what are we going to do with him?" asked the voice that hadfirst spoken.
"Wait until----" but the rest of the sentence Tom did not hear, forthe wind set up a louder howling at that point, and the words wereborne away with it. Then, too, Tom was at a disadvantage because of thebag over his ears.
He felt himself being lifted up, and placed in a more comfortableposition, and he was glad of that, for he felt weak and sick. It mustbe remembered that aside from a little coffee that morning, he had hadno breakfast, and that he had had little or no sleep the night before.With a scant supper, a battle with the storm, the anxiety about beinglost, and having led his friends, unconsciously enough, into a scrape,it was no great wonder that Tom was not altogether himself.
"But who in the world has captured me, and what do they want of me?"Tom asked himself. He had an idea it might, perhaps, be some of thehalf-breed Indians who had caught him for the sake of his gun andclothing. Or perhaps some trapper or guide was guilty.
But if they were after his gun, or what money he carried, or even thefine mackinaw he wore, why did they not take those things and make offinto the woods? That would at least leave Tom free.
But the men remained on guard over the bound figure of the boy, nowsitting upright on a bank of snow. Tom could dimly hear them movingabout. They were evidently waiting for someone.
"But if they wait long enough, the fellows may come to look after me,"Tom reasoned. "Jack, George, and Bert will know how to deal with thesescoundrels."
Then he reflected that the other lads would not know where he wasunless he fired his gun, and he could not do that. If one of theothers--Bert, Jack or George--found the road, they would not know whereTom was.
"Unless the dog could lead me to them, or them to me," he mused. "Iwonder where Towser is, anyhow?"
Tom's last view of the animal had been when it darted into a bush,after some rabbit, perhaps. Then had come the sudden attack. If the doghad returned, Tom did not know of it. He only hoped the animal would"raise some sort of row," as he put it.
But there was no evidence of Towser. Tom could hear only the nowlow-voiced talk of two men, and the rush of the wind. That it was stillsnowing he was quite sure, and he wondered what his companions weredoing.
Suddenly he became aware of some new element that entered into hispredicament. One of the men exclaimed:
"Here he comes now!"
"That's good!" responded the other, and there seemed to be relief inhis tones.
"I didn't see anything of him," called the newcomer. "I saw theothers--they've separated, all right, but Fairfield----"
"He's here! We've got him!" was the triumphant rejoinder of one of themen near Tom. "Got him good and proper!"
"You have! That's the ticket. Now we'll see what the old man has tosay. I guess he'll pony up all right."
Tom felt a shock as though someone had thrown cold water over him.
That voice!
Tom knew now. It was Professor Skeel.
He began to understand. He saw the meaning of many things that hadhitherto puzzled him. The vagueness was clearing away. The plot wasbeginning to be revealed.
Was this why Skeel had come to the wilderness of the Adirondacks? Wasthis why he and his cronies had been sneaking around the camp cabins?It seemed so.
"And yet, what in the world can he want of me?" Tom asked himself. "Ifit's revenge for what I did to him, this is a queer way of showing it.I didn't think he'd have spunk enough to plot a thing like this, thoughhe certainly has meanness enough."
Tom was thinking fast. He was putting together in his mind manymatters that had seemed strange to him. Certain it was that at Skeel'sinstigation he had been made a prisoner, and probably with the helpof Murker and Whalen, though Tom had not seen their faces clearly andcould not be sure of their identity.
"But what's it all about?" poor Tom asked himself over and over again."Why should he make a prisoner of me?"
"Can we carry him?" asked Skeel's voice. "We've got to take him tothe old shack, you know. Can't leave him here. Besides, there's somebusiness to attend to in connection with him. Can you carry him throughthe snow?"
"Sure," was the answer. "He isn't so heavy. Up on your shoulders withhim, Whalen, and we'll follow the professor. I'm all turned about inthis storm!"
Tom was sure, then, of the identity of his three captors. He was assure as though he had seen them.
A moment later he found himself being lifted up, and he could feel thatthe men were adjusting him to their shoulders. It was no easy task,for Tom was rather heavy, and his clothing, for he was dressed warmlyfor the cold, made an additional burden. But the men were strong, itseemed.
"Shall we take that off?" asked one of the men. Tom had an idea hereferred to the head-covering bag.
"No, better leave it on until we get farther off. Some of the othersmight see him," was Skeel's answer. Tom felt sure he referred to thebag.
"I wish they'd take this gag out of my mouth," Tom mused. "I don't careso much for the bag. But my tongue will feel like a piece of leather ina little while."
On through the storm Tom was carried, on the shoulders of the two men.In fancy he could see the former instructor leading the way.
"He spoke of the old shack," mused Tom. "I wonder if he means thedeserted cabin where we were? If he takes me there, the boys will havea better chance of finding me if they look."
But Tom was soon to know that it was not to the deserted hut he wasbeing carried. For the journey soon came to an abrupt termination. Theyoung prisoner felt himself being carried into some building, for hewas lowered from the men's shoulders.
"They never could have reached the old cabin in this time," Tom decidedto himself. "They must have brought me to some new place. I wonder whatwill happen now?"
Tom felt himself laid on some sort of bed or bunk. Then he heard adoor closed and locked.
"Well, we've got him just where we want him," said Skeel. "Now we'll goahead with our plans."
And the prisoner wondered what those plans were.
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