“Did—did you think I—I took the bullion?” Lenning asked weakly.
Mr. Bradlaugh had nothing to say.
CHAPTER XXIV.
MERRIWELL’S FAITH.
Although Lenning had been roughly treated, he had suffered no serious injury. The worst of his sufferings had come while lying in the big, empty tank, kicking his heels against the staves and hoping against hope that some one would hear him, in spite of the clamor from the mill.
“I thought no one would ever come,” said he, leaning back in a chair in the laboratory and speaking to Hawkins, Bradlaugh, Burke, Merriwell, Clancy, and Ballard. “I never knew a stamp mill made so much noise before,” he added whimsically.
“How did the thieves manage to get the best of you?” queried Burke.
“They jumped on me from behind. I had come in here for a lantern, and had stepped out and was locking the door. That’s when they got me. Before I knew what was going on, some one was on my back, and another fellow had clapped a hand over my mouth. I couldn’t yell, and I couldn’t get away. It was mighty tough, I tell you, when they got the ropes on me and I was lying on my back and looking up into the face of Shoup. I knew right off what he was up to. I yelled for help, and I managed to get in a few more yells before they got me gagged. No one heard me, though.”
“You’re wrong there, Lenning,” said Merry. “I heard you. I was coming down the trail into the camp at the time, and it was hard for me to locate the place where the cry came from. I thought it was up the slope, in the chaparral.”