"It appears likely; but, if such is the case, I cannot understand why Professor Scotch was spared."
"No more can Oi, Frankie."
The boys were at their wits' end, and they were in an intensely agitated frame of mind.
Suddenly Frank clutched Barney's arm, pointing down into the pocket, and crying:
"Look! look! the professor has broken away! He is running for his life! But he cannot escape! They are hot after him."
It was true. The little man had made a desperate break for liberty, but it was folly to do so, as the Danites soon overtook him. One of them, a stout man, with a short white beard, held a revolver in his hand. He reversed the weapon, grasping it by the barrel, and struck the professor down with the butt.
The sight made Frank's blood boil.
"I will remember that wretch!" grated the boy, his eyes glowing. "If we do not get out of here, I may be able to square a score with him!"
Barney was scarcely less wrought up.
"Poor profissor!" he exclaimed. "It's loikely the divvils will finish him now."