“Not enough,” retorted the man. “We want several thousand, seeing you are worth it.”
“I haven’t a thousand dollars in the world,” declared Trevor.
“You are worth twenty thousand,” insisted the man confidently. “We’ll prove it to you a little later. Here,” to his companion, “tie Fairbanks, leave the letter with him, and let us get out of this before anybody is missed.”
“One word,” said Ralph. “Are you people responsible for the disappearance of Mr. Griscom?”
“Perhaps,” said the man. “He’s all safe and sound—only out of the way of mischief for a 88 spell. One other word, Fairbanks, we didn’t fire the bridge.”
Trevor looked the picture of distress and uncertainty as he was forced from the locomotive cab.
“You people will regret this high-handed outrage,” he cried. “My uncle is president of the Great Northern.”
“That is just exactly why you are worth twenty thousand dollars,” coolly announced the man who had acted as engineer. “Plain and square, gentlemen, kindly call this a bit of kidnapping scientifically worked at some care and expense. You come with us. Fairbanks will do the rest. Got him tied up?” to his companion. “All right, now put the letter in his pocket.”
And, leaving the young fireman bound and helpless on the floor of the cab, the men with Trevor left the scene.