Part 25 (2/2)

”If they've begun looking for him we'd best sheer off, Corporal.”

”That's right,” replied Corporal--”at once.”

Whereupon they descended from their perches, and having looked carefully up and down, unlocked the dungeon door.

Their prisoner was lying so still and motionless, that for an instant they had their misgivings as to whether the gag had not been a trifle too much for his respiration. But a moment's examination satisfied them the boy was alive--much to their relief.

The sack was once more brought into requisition, and turned out to be a great deal larger than it looked, for it was found quite roomy enough to accommodate the whole of the person of Percy Rimbolt, who in this dignified retreat quitted the scene of his labours on the back of one of his captors. The hut having been once more carefully padlocked, the party travelled at least a mile into the depths of the lonely woods, where at least there was no lack of shade and seclusion.

Percy was deposited somewhat unceremoniously on the ground, and left in the sack (with just sufficient aperture in the region of his nose to allow of respiration) for some hours more, unheeded by his custodians except when he attempted to move or roll over, on which occasions he was sharply reminded of his duty to his company by an unceremonious kick.

Some time later--it may have been an hour or two, or only five minutes-- he was aware of a conversation taking place outside his sack.

”Risky,” said one voice.

”More risky not to do it,” said the other. ”What use would he be if he was a dead 'un? Besides, how are we to carry him all that way?”

”All right, have it your way,” said the other surlily.

Then Percy was conscious of some one uncording the mouth of the sack and uncovering his head.

”Young feller,” said the gruffer of the two voices, ”do you want your throat cut?”

Percy shook his head in mild deprecation of such a desire.

”Do you want your tongue cut out?”

Once more Percy disclaimed any consuming anxiety in that direction.

”Then you won't move a step or speak a word unless you're told. Do you mark that?”

The boy nodded; he did mark it.

Thereupon, much to his relief, the gag was taken from his mouth, and he felt himself hauled out of the ignominious sack.

”A drink!” he gasped.

”There he goes; I said he'd do it. Clap the gag on again.”

Poor blindfolded Percy could only wave his head appealingly. He would sooner have his throat cut than feel that gag back between his teeth.

His captors let him off this once, and one of them untied the cords from his legs. He was too cramped to attempt to make any use of this partial liberty, even had he been so minded, and sank down, half fainting, to the ground.

”Give him a drink,” said one of the voices; and in a moment or two he felt a cup of delicious water held to his parched lips, reviving him as if by magic. A few coa.r.s.e pieces of bread were also thrust between his lips; these he swallowed painfully, for his jaws were stiff and aching, and his teeth had almost forgotten their cunning. However, when the meal was over he felt better, and would gladly have slept upon it for an hour or two, had he been allowed.

But this was no part of his captors' programme. They had not relaxed his bonds to indulge any such luxurious craving. Overstone Church had already sounded eleven, and they were due in an hour at the mountain shed.

”Get up and step out,” said one of them, pulling the boy roughly to his feet.

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