The Boy from the Ranch; Or, Roy Bradner's City Experiences

by Frank V. Webster

"Get out of my office!"

"I'll leave your office, because I have finished my business with you, and not because I am afraid of arrest," answered Roy coolly. "You know I am not an impostor. I can prove who I am. I shall call on you again in a week," and he went out in time to surprise the office boy with his ear at the key hole, listening to what was going on.

"Cracky!" exclaimed the little lad, when Roy had gone out. "He certainly talked to the boss like a Dutch Uncle."

Meanwhile Mr. Annister sat in his office chair, much disturbed in his mind. He was in great alarm, for he knew Roy was no impostor.

"What am I going to do?" he asked himself. "He has found me out!"

He sat biting his nails nervously, his eyes roving about his office, as if seeking some way of escape from the trouble he was in. Suddenly an idea came to him.

"I must get that boy out of the way," he said in a low whisper, which even the office lad could not hear. "He knows too much. He is too smart. And I must act promptly. If I can get him out of the way for

CHAPTER XVI

SOME NEW EXPERIENCES

Roy passed out through the outer rooms of Caleb Annister's suite of offices. He noted the eavesdropping act of the boy, but said nothing to the small chap, who seemed much embarrassed. Then Roy, with his head somewhat in a whirl over what he had just gone through, went into the tiled corridor.

He got into an elevator, but, no sooner had the attendant closed the iron-grilled door than the car seemed to fall to the bottom of the elevator well with a sickening suddenness.

"Look out!" cried the boy from the ranch, startled out of his reverie concerning Mr. Annister, by the fear that the car had broken from the cable. "She's going to smash!" he cried.

Down, down, down fell the car, but, to Roy's surprise no one seemed to mind it. To him it felt, as he expressed it, "as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach."

Roy clung to one side of the iron grating which formed the car. Every moment he expected the cage to be dashed to pieces. Then some one laughed. Roy knew something was going on that he didn't understand.

A moment later the car came to a gradual stop, amid a hissing of air.

"Say, stranger, does it often break loose and go on a stampede that way?" asked Roy of the attendant who opened the door at the ground floor.

"What's the matter? Did it scare you?"

"Well, it was a pretty good imitation of it," replied Roy, while the other passengers broke into laughter. "I sure thought I was going to China. What was the matter?"

"Nothing. This is an express elevator, and it drops from the twentieth story to the ground in about fifteen seconds. It lands into an air chamber, as soft as a piece of rubber. There's no danger. I do it a hundred times a day."

"You'll have to excuse me the next time," said Roy, with a smile as he got out. "I don't exactly cotton to elevators anyhow, but when they drop you like a steer falling over a cliff, why it'll be walk the stairs for mine, after this. It sure will."

"Guess you're from out West, ain't you?"

"That's what I am, and it's a mighty good place. Say, that trip sure made me dizzy."

Indeed there is a curious feeling about being dropped twenty stories in a swift elevator, and Roy might well be excused for his sensation.

However, he soon recovered himself, and, as it was noon time, and he had a good appetite, he looked about for a place to get something to eat.

He noticed a small restaurant nearby, and went in.

Instead of seeing tables set out in the place, he beheld rows of chairs, with one arm made very large, so that it served as a shelf on which to place plates, cups and saucers. In fact it was a chair and table combined.

He saw men eating, and others hurrying to and fro, so he took a vacant place, and sat there, expecting a waiter to come to him and take his order. He remained there for some time, noting that the men seated in a row on either side of him, were busy with their food, but no attendant came to him.

"This is queer," thought the boy. "The waiters must be terribly busy. They don't keep you waiting like this at my hotel."

Finally a man, seeing that Roy was a stranger, spoke to him, saying:

"You have to wait on yourself here."

"Wait on yourself?"

"Yes. You go up to that counter over there," pointing to it, "and take whatever you want. You'll find plates, knives, forks and so on. Then, if you want coffee, you take a cup, go to that counter, where the man stands, and he'll draw a cup for you."

"Thanks," replied Roy, proceeding to put these directions into use. Then for the first time he noticed that the other patrons of the restaurant were doing the same thing.

Roy helped himself to some sandwiches, crullers, a piece of cheese and some pie.

"I wonder who I pay?" he thought, as he saw no one behind the food counter to take any money. "Guess it must be the man at the coffee urn."

He carried his food to a chair, placing it on the broad arm. Then he went back for a cup of coffee.

"I got some grub back there," he said to the man. "What's the damage?"

"Pay the girl at the desk when you go out," replied the man shortly without looking around. "Tell her what you had, and she'll tell you how much it is."

"Well, isn't that the limit," exclaimed Roy, half to himself, as he got his coffee. "This is certainly a new-fangled way of getting your grub."

Still he rather liked the novelty of it. Certainly it was quick, once one learned how to go about it. Roy made a good though not very fancy meal, and then walked up to the desk, where he observed other men paying.

"Well," asked the young lady, who seemed to have a very large amount of light hair, piled up on top of her head in all sorts of waves and frizzes.

"What'd you have?"

She spoke briskly, making change for one man, and handing another one a box of cigars, that he might take one, and, all the while she never stopped chewing gum.

Roy named over the articles.

"Twenty cents!" exclaimed the girl. "Here, that's a lead nickel!" she added quickly, to the customer just ahead of Roy. "Don't try any of them tricks on me."

Roy laid down two dimes, wondering at the cheapness of the meal, and feeling quite confused by the rush and excitement about him.

He walked out, wondering what his next move should be. He had not gone a dozen steps up the street, before he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to mention to the young lady at the desk that he had a piece of pie.

"I've got to go right back and pay her for that pie!" thought the lad. "She'll think I'm trying to cheat her. Lucky I thought of it when I did, or they might have sent a policeman after me."

He hurried back, and made his way to the desk through a crowd of men coming out.

"Say," he began to the cashier, "I'm awfully sorry, but I made a mistake."

"No mistakes corrected after you leave the desk. See that sign?" and the girl pointed to one to that effect. "You should count your change while you're here. You can't work that game on me."

"I'm not trying to work any game," and Roy felt a little hurt that his good motive should thus be mistaken. "I had a piece of pie and I forgot to tell you of it. I came back to pay the five cents."

"Oh!"

The girl's manner changed, and she looked a little embarrassed. "That's all right. You could have paid me to-morrow.

"But I might not be here to-morrow."

Roy laid down a five-cent piece.

"Say, but you're honest!" exclaimed the cashier, as she put back a straggling lock of her yellow hair. "You can't live in New York."

"Now I wonder why she said that?" reasoned Roy, as he walked along the street. "Can it be that every one in New York is dishonest? Well, I certainly think Mr. Annister is. I must write to father, and tell him what took place. Then I wander what I had better do next."

Roy was quite perplexed. He would have been more worried had he known what was passing through the mind of Caleb Annister at that moment.

CHAPTER XVII

CALEB ANNISTER MAKES PLANS

The rascally real estate agent was more worried over the visit of Roy than he cared to acknowledge, even to himself. The truth was that Caleb Annister was planning a bold stroke, which was nothing less than to obtain title of the building belonging to Mr. Bradner and his son.

For a long time, as Mr. Bradner had suspected, the agent had been cheating him, retaining part of the rents. But this did not satisfy Mr. Annister. He had begun to steal, and he liked that easy way of getting money so well that he determined on operations on a larger scale. Now Roy's coming was likely to interfere with this.

It was Caleb Annister's plan to obtain ownership of the building in this way. Though he had reported to Mr. Bradner that the taxes had been always paid promptly, they were, in fact, very much behind, and had not been paid for two years.

Consequently the city had put the property up for sale for unpaid taxes. A certain length of time must elapse before a title could be taken from the former owner, and given to any one who would pay the taxes and other city charges.

Mr. Annister planned to pay these back taxes without Mr. Bradner's knowledge and so become the owner of the building, which was quite valuable. But it needed about two weeks before his trick could be consummated, and with Roy on hand in New York it might not go through at all.

For the real estate agent realized, that as Roy had already begun to investigate the property, he might not stop there, but go further discover that the taxes were unpaid, and have his father pay them in the two weeks that remained, thus keeping the title of the building and land in Mr. Bradner's name.

"I must prevent that at all costs!" exclaimed the agent, as he sat in his office, when Roy had gone. "I have gone too far to back out now. And I will not be thwarted by a mere boy. Bah! Why should I be afraid of him? If I can get him out of the way—if I can have him disappear for two weeks, I can snap my fingers at him and his father too. Then I'll no longer be the agent for the Bleecker Building—I'll be the owner, and a wealthy man!"

He gave himself up to day-dreams of what this would mean. He was brought back from it, however, by the necessity of getting Roy out of the way.

"I wonder how I can do it?" he murmured.

At present Caleb Annister could see no way of bringing this about. He decided to go out for dinner, thinking, perhaps, some plan might occur to him.

As he was walking along the street he almost collided with a man who was hurrying along in the opposite direction.

"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Mr. Annister.

"Certainly. My fault entirely," replied the other. "I—why, if it isn't Caleb Annister," he went on. "How are you?"

"Phelan Baker!" cried Mr. Annister, in a tone of surprise. "I thought you were out West."

"I was, but I arrived in New York this morning."

"And how are Sutton and Hynard?" went on Mr. Annister. "I haven't seen them since that affair of—"

"Hush! Don't mention such things in public," cautioned Mr. Baker, for what Mr. Annister referred to was a swindling game in which Baker and his cronies had been involved, and the discovery of which had made it necessary for them to leave the city awhile.

"The boys are all right," went on Mr. Baker. "Tupper is with them. In fact they came on to New York with me. We were delayed on the road." He did not say this was caused by the necessity for fleeing after robbing Mortimer De Royster. "We're at the same hotel. By the way," he went on, "you couldn't lend me fifty dollars; could you? I'm short, and the boys have very little. We haven't had any luck lately. I'd like fifty dollars for a few days. Can you let me have it?"

"I'm sorry," began Mr. Annister. "I'd like to, but the truth is I have some heavy bills to meet, and people who owe me money, have not paid me. Otherwise—"

"Well, perhaps I can get it somewhere else," said Mr. Baker. In fact he had very little hope, when he made the request of Mr. Annister, that he would get the loan. The real estate agent was known to be very "close", seldom lending money, though he was quite well off.

"I'd like to accommodate you," went on Caleb Annister, brightening up, when he saw that Mr. Baker was not going to press the matter, "but you see how it is."

"You haven't any work that you want done; have you?" asked the man who had helped to rob Mortimer De Royster, and who had tried unsuccessfully to rob and swindle Roy. "We could do almost anything you wanted done, if you paid us for it. None of us have anything in view to get a few dollars at."

Suddenly a thought came into the wicked brain of Caleb Annister. This might be the very chance he was looking for! Baker and his men could get Roy out of the way for him. He would try it.

"Perhaps you might do me a service," he said. "It is very simple, and does not amount to a great deal."

Mr. Baker knew the real estate agent well enough to feel that whenever he wanted anything done, it was no small matter. But he merely said:

"Tell me what it is. If it's possible we'll do it—for money, of course."

"Oh, it's very possible, and I will be willing to pay you and your friends well. Come and have lunch with me, and we will talk it over."

Caleb Annister had intended going to an expensive restaurant and ordering a fine meal, for he was fond of good living, but, when he found he would have to take Baker, and pay for his dinner, he changed his plans, and went to a cheap eating place.

There, sitting in a secluded corner, Mr. Annister unfolded a plot to the swindler.

"There is a certain young man, lately arrived in New York," said the real estate agent, "who is bothering me. Nothing serious, you understand, but I have a certain deal to put through and he might spoil it. I want him kept out of the way for two weeks. By that time my plans will be finished, and I don't care what he does. Do you think you can get him, and take him, say to some nearby town, or even some place in New York and keep him there for two weeks? But I must insist that no harm comes to him."

With all his swindling schemes, Mr. Annister would not go too far.

"Sure we can do it," replied Phelan Baker. "That's easy. What do we get for it?"

"If you get him away, and keep him out of sight for two weeks all will be well, and I will pay you a thousand dollars."

"Good enough! We'll do it. Now who is this boy you want taken away?"

"Roy Bradner."

"What? Roy Bradner, the boy from Triple O ranch?"

"That's the one. But what do you know of him?" and Mr. Annister was very much astonished.

"This is curious," murmured Baker. "Very curious. I'll tell you about it, Annister."

CHAPTER XVIII

ROY IN DANGER

When Roy got out into the street again, after paying for the pie he had forgotten about, he was quite puzzled as to which direction to take to get back to his hotel.

"Guess I'm off the trail," he told himself. "I'd ought to have brought a compass along. Let's see, which way is North?"

He looked about for a sight of the sun, but, though it was shining, the tall buildings hid it from view.

"Might as well be down in the grand canyon of the Colorado, as here in New York for all you can see of the sun," he murmured.

"I ought to have taken more notice of the way I came, but what with going in so many buildings, and that express elevator, I'm all turned around."

He tried to think which way to take, and then, getting over a little natural embarrassment about asking a stranger the road, he inquired of a well-dressed man the way to get to his hotel, the name of which, fortunately, Roy remembered.

"Go right down those stairs," said the man, pointing to a flight which started in a little shelter built on the sidewalk. "Take an uptown express, and you'll land right at your hotel. There's a station there."

"Station?" thought Roy. "That's a queer place for a station. Didn't have room for it above ground, I reckon."

He walked down the flight of steps, finding himself in a brilliantly lighted place. Doing as he saw the crowd do he bought a ticket at a little window and then, seeing a sign "Uptown Express Trains," he followed the throng going in that direction.

A moment later a string of cars came rumbling up along-side of the platform.

"All aboard!" called the guard.

The boy from the ranch got in and took a seat. The next moment the train started off at great speed, for it was an express, and made but few stops. Leaving the brilliantly-lighted station the cars plunged into darkness, relieved by an occasional electric lamp.

"Must be a tunnel," thought Roy. "We'll come out on top of the ground in a minute, and I can see what New York looks like. Space is so crowded down town, I s'pose they have to tunnel for a few blocks."

But the tunnel did not come to an end. In vain Roy waited for the train to emerge into daylight. Past station after station it rushed, the lights there showing for an instant, and then the darkness closing in again.

Finally the express stopped. Several passengers got off, and more got on. Then it started up again, still whizzing through the dark.

Roy could stand it no longer. Perhaps he had made a mistake and gotten into the wrong train This one might be destined for China, or some other under-ground port. Roy made his way to where a guard was standing.

"Excuse me, stranger," he began, in his broad western tones. "But how long is this tunnel, anyhow?"

"Tunnel? This ain't no tunnel!"

"No? what is it then? It's a pretty good imitation. Looks like an underground river that has gone dry."

"Why, this is the subway."

"The subway?"

"Sure. It goes right under the streets, all the way along New York."

Then Roy understood. Mortimer De Royster had told him something of this underground railroad, through the heart of New York, but thinking of other things had put it out of Roy's mind. A little later he alighted and walked to his hotel.

Meanwhile Caleb Annister and Mr. Baker had been plotting together. They discussed many schemes, and at last hit on one they thought would answer.

"I think we'll let Tupper do the trick," said Baker. "Young Bradner saw less of him than he did of the rest of us, and if Tupper shaves off his moustache, and changes his voice a bit, as he can do, the boy will never recognize him," for Baker had told Mr. Annister of the encounter of himself and his cronies with the boy from the ranch.

"Anything so as to get him away for two weeks," said the agent. "Don't tell him too much about it, and then—if anything happens, you understand—I can't be called to testify."

"Oh, nothing will happen, in the way you mean. We'll be careful. Now where is he stopping?"

Mr. Annister mentioned the name of the hotel, which Roy had written on the card he had left with the agent.

"All right. I'll see Tupper, and have him fix up to do the job. It ought to be easy. You'll have the money, I suppose?"

"As soon as he is out of the way—safely—you get the thousand dollars."

There was some more talk, and the two plotters separated.

It was three days after this, during which time Roy had enjoyed himself going about New York alone, (for he had not seen De Royster) that, as he was sitting in the hotel lobby one afternoon, a well-dressed man approached him.

"Aren't you from out Painted Stone way, in Colorado?" asked the man pleasantly.

"That's where I'm from, the Triple O ranch," replied Roy, who was frank by nature, and unsuspicious. He wondered who the man could be, and how he knew where he was from in the west.

"I thought so," went on the stranger. "I was out on a ranch near there about a week ago and I happened to be at the railroad station when you got aboard."

"What ranch were you on?" asked Roy, for he knew them all within a radius of a hundred miles of his father's.

"Why, it was—er—let's see—seems to me it was the Double X."

"There's no such ranch near Painted Stone."

"Well, maybe I'm wrong. I just stopped there, but I have a poor memory for names," said the stranger quickly. "But permit me to introduce myself. I'm John Wakely, of Buffalo. I'm a stranger in New York, and, as you are also, I thought we might go about a bit together."

"That would suit me," replied Roy, who was beginning to feel a bit lonely in the big city, without the company of a friend. He thought this was a good opportunity to go around and see the sights. He told the man his name.

"Suppose we go in and have some ice cream soda," went on Mr. Wakely. "Or, better, still, have it in my room. I'm stopping at this hotel. Then we can go out a bit."

The idea appealed to Roy, who had a liking for the ice cream sodas he had only lately become familiar with. The day was hot, and the stranger seemed very cordial. Roy had a dim suspicion that he had heard his voice somewhere before, but he could not place it. Certainly the face was not one he could recall.

They went to Mr. Wakely's room, and soon a bell boy brought two large glasses of the cool beverage.

He set them down on the table between Mr. Wakely and Roy, and then withdrew. Had Roy known now of the dangers of the city he never would have trusted a stranger as he did this one.

"Is that your handkerchief on the floor behind you?" asked Mr. Wakely suddenly, pointing at something on the carpet.

Roy turned. At the same instant Mr. Wakely extended his hand over the glass of soda in front of the boy. Something like a white powder sifted down into it.

A moment later Roy turned back.

"It's not my handkerchief," he said. "Must be a piece of dust rag, the work-girl dropped."

"Very likely. But drink your soda and we'll go out." The boy put to his lips the glass, into which Mr. Wakely had sifted the white powder. He was in great danger, but he did not realize nor suspect it.

CHAPTER XIX

ROY IS MISSING

Shortly after this incident, approaching the clerk at the hotel desk where he had engaged a room near Roy's, Mr. Wakely, seeming much concerned, said:

"My friend, Mr. Bradner, has been taken suddenly ill. I think I shall take him to my doctor's. Will you call me a cab?"

"Why don't you have the hotel doctor look at him?" suggested the clerk, who had taken a liking to the boy from the ranch. The clerk did not exactly like the ways of Mr. Wakely, who had only taken a room at the hotel a day or so before.

"Oh, I don't like to trust a strange doctor. I think my physician can fix him up. He is in need of rest, more than anything else. The strenuous life of the city, after his quiet days on the ranch has been too much for him."

"He looked strong and hearty," replied the clerk. "He told me he used to rope wild steers. I should think he could stand it here. He hasn't been going around much."

"Still I think I shall take him away," went on Mr. Wakely. "Please call me a cab. I believe I'll take his baggage with me. I'll settle for his bill."

"There's nothing to settle. Mr. Bradner paid me this morning for his board up to the end of the week."

Mr. Wakely looked relieved at this, but said nothing.

The clerk, not exactly liking what was going on, but being unable to interpose any objections, rung for a cab. Then, under orders from Mr. Wakely, Roy's baggage was brought down and put into the vehicle.

A little later Roy's new acquaintance came down in the elevator, supporting the lad with an arm around his shoulders. Roy could hardly walk, for his legs were trembling, and there was a curious white, dazed look on his face.

"What's the matter, old chap?" asked the hotel clerk, with ready sympathy. "Can I do anything for you?"

It seemed as if Roy tried to speak, but only a murmur came from his lips.

"He'll be all right in a little while," said Mr. Wakely quickly. "He's a little faint; that's all. I'll look after him."

Somehow the clerk thought Mr. Wakely acted as if he did not want any one to come too near Roy, or lend any aid. A little later, leading the boy, who seemed to become weaker, Mr. Wakely got into the cab with him, and drove on.

"Poor fellow," said the clerk sympathetically. "I hope he gets better. He certainly is a nice chap, and I wonder what could have made him ill so suddenly? I don't like that Wakely fellow."

That evening it occurred to Mortimer De Royster that he had not seen his friend Roy for some time. Not, in fact, since he had parted with him at the hotel.

"That's beastly impolite on my part, don't you know," said De Royster to himself. "I must run around and see him. I've been so busy straightening out my accounts since I came back from my western trip, that I have neglected all my friends. However, I'll make up for it. I'll take him to some theatre and give him a good time."

Thus musing, Mortimer De Royster adjusted his one eye glass, selected a delicately-colored necktie from his rather large stock, and attired himself to go out and call at Roy's hotel, which he soon reached.

"Good evening, Mortimer," greeted the clerk, who knew De Royster quite well. "How are you?"

"Feeling very fit, old chap, don't you know," replied De Royster. "How are you?"

"So-so."

"That's good. Charming evening, isn't it? Charming. I—er—I called to see my friend, Mr. Bradner. Going to take him out and show him a bit of New York after dark, don't you know. I have tickets to a very nice show, and I think he'll like it. I owe a good deal to him, old man. He's a clever chap. I want to repay him in some way. I'll go up to his room."

"It's no use."

"No use. Why, my dear fellow, what do you mean?"

"I mean he was taken away—ill—in a cab by a friend of his."

"Who was the friend?"

Mortimer De Royster lost his rather careless manner, and was all attention.

"A fellow named Wakely. He took rooms here a day or so ago. Made friends with Mr. Bradner—Roy, I call him, for I feel quite friendly toward him. Late this afternoon Wakely came to me and said Roy was sick, and he was going to take him to a doctor."

"And did he?"

"That's what he did. Took his baggage too," and the clerk related what had taken place.

"What sort of a fellow was this Wakely?" asked De Royster, with increasing interest.

The clerk described him. The dudish jewelry salesman shook his head.

"I don't recognize him," he said. "What do you think about it? You saw him."

"I'll tell you what I think," went on the clerk. "I think that fellow Wakely is up to some game, and I wish Roy had not made his acquaintance."

"That's just what I believe," exclaimed De Royster. "It seems a queer thing that Roy should be taken sick so suddenly. Why, he was as healthy as a young ox. I'll wager there's something wrong. He came here to New York to expose a man he thought was a swindler, and I believe the man has him in his power now. I must do something to aid him."

"What are you going to do?" asked the clerk, as De Royster started out of the hotel.

"I'm going to try to find the cab driver who took them away, and perhaps I can trace Roy. If I can't do it that way I'll notify the police. Roy has been taken away against his will, and maybe they are keeping him in hiding. I'm going to find him!"

Roused into sudden action by the thought of danger to the lad who had aided him, Mortimer De Royster hurried out, a look of determination on his face.

CHAPTER XX

IN THE TENEMENT

When Roy awakened, after what seemed like a very long sleep, he found himself in a poorly furnished room. At first he could not understand it—everything was so different from his pleasant apartment at the hotel.

He thought it must be a dream, but when he saw his trunk and valises near the bed, he knew he was not asleep.

He sat up and looked about him. The room he was in contained, besides the bed, a table, a few chairs and a small cupboard. As Roy roused a man, seated in one of the chairs, approached the bed.

"So, you're awake, are you?" he asked.

"What's the matter—what has happened, Mr. Wakely?" asked Roy, recognizing the man who had treated him to ice cream soda.

"Oh, you're all right. You're just staying here for a few days."

"But what happened? Did the hotel catch fire? Did I get hurt? Did they bring me here?"

"I brought you here, but the hotel did not catch fire."

"Then why am I not there—in my own room?"

"This is your room for a while."

Something in the man's smile roused Roy's suspicions.

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

"Now keep quiet and you'll be all right," spoke Mr. Wakely, in what he meant to be a soothing tone. "You can't help yourself. You're here, and you're going to stay."

All of Roy's energies were aroused. He believed he had been brought to the place for the purposes of robbery. But how had it been done without his knowledge? He started to leave the bed.

"No you don't!" exclaimed Mr. Wakely. "You stay right there."

"What's that?" cried Roy, a sudden fire coming into his eyes, and his hands clenching themselves ready for a fray. "I must say you've got nerve to do this. I'm going to get up, and you and I are going to have a tussel! I guess I haven't roped wild steers, and ridden bucking broncos, for nothing!"

He threw off the covers, noting for the first time that he was fully dressed. But, as he attempted to approach Mr. Wakely a dizziness overcame him, and he sank back, trembling on the bed.

"You see I am right," went on the plotter with an evil smile. "You had better stay where you are."

It seemed to Roy as if all his strength had left him. He had never felt so weak before, save once, when he was recovering from a severe fever.

"Where am I; and what do you want?" he managed to ask.

"Now if you'll promise to lie quietly, I'll tell you," went on the man. "I guess I'll not take any chances though. I'll tie you in bed, and you can listen then."

It did not take him long, in Roy's weakened condition, to fasten the boy securely in the bed, by means of ropes which he took from the cupboard.

"There," remarked Mr. Wakely when he had finished. "I think you'll stay there for a while. Now listen. You have been brought here for a certain purpose. I can't tell you just what it is, but, if you behave yourself, no harm will come to you."