Jim agreed. He had never been to Boston before, and the old city, so interesting to every true American as one of the places where independence was first thought of and first fought for, appealed strongly to him. They saw the famous library, the Old South Church, and Faneuil Hall, and, after a good, swinging walk around the shopping district, prepared to go home. But they had wandered further from their hotel than they had thought, and Brady, seeing an errant taxicab, whose chauffeur held his door open invitingly, suggested that they ride back.
“I’ll stand treat,” he said. “And I want to go to a drug store, too. Cabby, drop me for a minute at some good drug store. I forgot to bring a toothbrush, and I’ve got to buy one to-night.”
They drove, very slowly, as it seemed to Jim, until they reached a drug store, and there Brady jumped out and went inside, leaving Jim to wait for him in the cab. But, even as Brady jumped out at one side, Jim saw the door on the other side open, and, at the same time, the cab started away with a burst of speed, and left the drug store far behind.
Jim, amazed and angry, cried out to the chauffeur, but a heavy hand was pushed over his mouth, and a coarse voice commanded him to keep still. He knew at once that there were two men in the cab with him, and, though he struggled for a moment, it was useless. He was overpowered, and he wisely, fearing some injury to his pitching arm, ceased struggling. Then a light was flashed in his face and held steady for a moment.
“Yes!” cried one of his captors triumphantly. “It’s him. I guess he won’t do any pitching for Yale to-morrow.”
Jim, knowing nothing of Boston, could make no guess as to their destination. He only knew that the cab was traveling very fast, and he judged, from the time occupied in the trip, that he was being carried outside of the city. He was almost sure that he had recognized Parker’s voice when the man had cried out that he knew him, but he could not be certain.
At last he was lifted out of the taxicab and allowed to stand on his feet. The roar of surf was in his ears, and he knew that he had been brought to some point on the seashore, probably twenty miles or more from Boston. It was very dark, but as he looked around, he could see the sea, and that he was on a beach. A number of low, squat houses were to be seen in the neighborhood, but lights were visible in only one or two of them. It seemed to be a desolate, bleak place, where there was little chance of finding help.
“If you’re Parker,” said Jim, to one of the men who got out of the cab with him, “you ought to know that you can only get yourself into more trouble by doing this.”
The man he addressed, who wore a black mask over his face, laughed harshly, but made no answer. Evidently he didn’t wish Jim to have another chance of recognizing his voice.
“Never mind who we are or what will happen to us,” said the other man, a complete stranger to Jim. “We can look out for ourselves. You’d better make up your mind to stay here till we let you go. You can’t get away, and if you keep quiet and don’t bother us, you’ll come to no harm. We’ll give you a place to sleep and all you need to eat, but if you try to get away, you’ll be caught and brought back, and we’ll tie you up. That’s a fair warning. See that you don’t make us do anything we and you would both regret.”