Too late!
Something settled over his head and entangled him in muffling folds. At the same moment he received a blow that knocked him down.
Although thus attacked from behind and taken by surprise, Frank made a desperate fight.
He realized he had been set upon by several assailants, and they were trying to beat him into nonresistance. For a time the blanket protected him from the force of their blows, but it smothered him, and he grew weaker and weaker. He did not give up, however, as long as he had the least strength left to resist.
At last he was beaten into a state of helplessness, and then, still enfolded by the smothering blanket, he was hurriedly lifted and carried away by strong hands.
When Merry came to himself he found himself in a small room that was poorly lighted by a single kerosene lamp.
Five men were in that room, all wearing masks that completely hid their faces.
In a stove a fire was burning, while on the stove sat a big pan, which contained some substance that gave out a peculiar odor.
The odor that came to Merry’s nostrils was that of tar.
The men seemed waiting for him to recover.