The men ate fast—almost ravenously, and Tom was not at all slow himself. He did not realize what an appetite he had until he saw the victuals disappearing.
Then, when the edge of his hunger had been a little dulled and blunted, to say the least, Tom once more began wondering why he had been caught and brought as a prisoner to the lonely hut.
“What’s the game?” he asked himself.
He was soon to know.
“Well, if you fellows have had enough, and he’s been fed, tie up his hands again,” said Skeel, coming from the room just then. “I want to have a talk with him. You can wait outside,” he added, when the ropes had once more been put on Tom’s hands and arms.
Skeel waited until the men had left the hut. Then, locking the door after them, the former teacher confronted Tom. Up to now our hero had said nothing. He believed in a policy of silence for the time being.
“Well, what do you think of yourself now?” sneered Skeel, folding his arms. “You’re not so smart as you thought you were, are you?”
“I haven’t begun to think yet,” said Tom, coolly. “But I would like to know why you have brought me here—by what right?”
“By the right of—might!” was the answer. “I’ve got you here, and here I’m going to keep you until your father pays me a ransom of ten thousand dollars. That will square accounts a little, and make up for some of the things you did to me. It’s you against ten thousand dollars, and I guess your father would rather pay up than see you suffer. Now I’ll get down to business,” and he drew up a chair and sat down in front of Tom.