Toma was not long in deciding upon his course of action. He hurried into the kitchen, passed through the door at the back, picked up a small log, about four feet in length and six inches in diameter and, returning with it, he applied himself to the door.
At the first blow from his heavy battering-ram, the lock gave way. A splintering and cracking of wood, and the door swung back. Looking inside, Toma dropped his battering-ram.
Closest to the door, lay Rand, gagged, bound hand and foot. A few feet farther on, sprawled the youthful figures of his two friends, Fontaine and Le Sueur.
Following a little gasp of amazement, Toma strode into the room.
Burnnel and Emery had appeared so unexpectedly before the boys, opposite Meade’s road-house, that resistance was useless. Dick and Sandy had no chance, whatever, to raise a hand in their defense. Of the three, Toma had been the only one at all fortunate. His sudden leap backward into the brush made possible his escape, but Dick and Sandy were powerless. The young Scotchman, shrinking with terror, still sat on the fallen tree, while Dick, no less overcome with fear, stood motionless, as the two men drew closer, flourishing their guns. Emery’s face was malignant but triumphant.
“So you thought you’d bust into our little game, eh?” he snarled, as he relieved Dick and Sandy of their revolvers. “Yuh thought yuh was pretty smart back there at Creel’s a few days ago, didn’t yuh? Well, yuh can pay fer that now. Time we get through with yuh, yuh won’t be so willin’ to meddle in somebody else’s business.”
Emery’s scowl darkened. He was on the point of making some sarcastic reply, but Burnnel cut in sharply:
“Save your gab, both o’ yuh. Too bad that other feller got away.”
Dick hoped that their captors would take them back to Meade’s road-house. It would be the best thing for him and Sandy. Their chance of getting away would be better. They would feel safer there. Meade, no doubt, would interfere and gain their release.
Sandy had sunk into deep and utter dejection. He recalled, with little shivers of apprehension, the treatment which had been meted out to Creel a few days before. He was not buoyed up by any false hopes. He could see in Burnnel and Emery’s actions only an effort at reprisal—revenge for their previous humiliation. Unlike Dick, he did not believe that they would be taken back to Meade’s road-house. In fact, such a thought had never entered his mind. The partners were too shrewd for that. No, he and Dick would be mistreated and tortured merely to satisfy their craving for revenge. Besides, it would not suit Burnnel and Emery’s purpose to be encumbered with two prisoners. They had other business to attend to.