“Sure,” was the answer. “He isn’t so heavy. Up on your shoulders with him, Whalen, and we’ll follow the professor. I’m all turned about in this storm!”
Tom was sure, then, of the identity of his three captors. He was as sure as though he had seen them.
A moment later he found himself being lifted up, and he could feel that the men were adjusting him to their shoulders. It was no easy task, for Tom was rather heavy, and his clothing, for he was dressed warmly for the cold, made an additional burden. But the men were strong, it seemed.
“Shall we take that off?” asked one of the men. Tom had an idea he referred to the head-covering bag.
“No, better leave it on until we get farther off. Some of the others might see him,” was Skeel’s answer. Tom felt sure he referred to the bag.
“I wish they’d take this gag out of my mouth,” Tom mused. “I don’t care so much for the bag. But my tongue will feel like a piece of leather in a little while.”
On through the storm Tom was carried, on the shoulders of the two men. In fancy he could see the former instructor leading the way.
“He spoke of the old shack,” mused Tom. “I wonder if he means the deserted cabin where we were? If he takes me there, the boys will have a better chance of finding me if they look.”
But Tom was soon to know that it was not to the deserted hut he was being carried. For the journey soon came to an abrupt termination. The young prisoner felt himself being carried into some building, for he was lowered from the men’s shoulders.