Part 11 (2/2)
”That is what old Crabtree used to say.”
”The Rovers always were too important for their own good, young man.”
”We know how to do the fair thing by others--and that is more than you!”
”Shut up; I'm in no humor to listen to your preaching.”
”Then open the door and let me go.”
”Not just yet. I want to know how much you overheard of my talk with Buddy Girk.”
”I reckon he heard all of it,” growled the fool.
”If I was you, Baxter, I wouldn't let him go at all.”
”You would keep him a prisoner?”
Buddy Girk nodded.
”But we can't guard him, Buddy.”
”We won't want to guard him. Just bind him hands and feet, and stuff a gag in his mouth, and there you are.”
”Would you leave him in this room?”
”I don't know.” Girk scratched his tangled head of hair. ”No, I wouldn't. I'll tell you where to take him.”
He finished by whispering into Arnold Baxter's ear. At once the rascal's face brightened, and he nodded. ”Just the thing!” he muttered.
”It will serve him right.”
”Are you going to let me go?” demanded d.i.c.k uneasily, for he saw that the two were plotting to do him injury.
”No,” came from both.
Without another word d.i.c.k leaped for the door. The key was in the lock, but ere he could turn it Buddy Girk hauled him back. A scuffle followed, which came to a sudden termination when Arnold Baxter raised his heavy cane and struck the boy, on the back of the head. With a million stars dancing before his eyes, poor d.i.c.k went down completely dazed.
Girk lost no time in following up the advantage thus gained, and by the time d.i.c.k felt like rising he found his hands bound behind him and a gag of knotted cloth stuffed into his mouth. Then his feet were fastened together, and he was rolled up in an old blanket much the worse for wear and the want of was.h.i.+ng.
”Now, come on, before anybody else spots us!” exclaimed Baxter.
”If you can lift him alone I'll bring the light. I'm no good on the carry yet.”
”All right, light the way,” answered Buddy Girk, and took up the form of the boy.
Taking up the smoky lamp, Arnold Baxter led the way out of a rear door to a side hallway. Here two flights of stairs led to a low and ill ventilated cellar. The underground apartment had never been used for anything but old rubbish, and this was piled high on all sides.
”Here we are,” said Baxter, as he paused in front of what had once been a stone coal bin. ”Dump him in there and shut the door on him. I don't believe he'll get out in any hurry.”
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