Frank realized that he had been attacked, and he tried to make a fight of it, but the shock of the fall had
taken away his strength, and then he found there were three against him.
"Work lively!" growled a hoarse voice. "He's worse than a tiger in a scrap!"
His hands were twisted about behind his back and held there, while a cord was bound about them. In a remarkably brief space of time he was rendered helpless.
Then Frank's feet were bound, and he was forced to submit to the tying of a blindfold over his eyes. Before this was accomplished, however, he saw the three men through the gloom, and discovered that all wore masks to hide their faces.
When Frank was blindfolded, the man who had given all the commands, and who seemed to be the leader, said:
"Bring out the team."
Frank's ears told him that one of the men went away, and soon, by the sound, the boy decided that a team was being brought from some place in the woods, where it had been concealed.
"What sort of a job is this?" thought the captive lad. "It seems to be a case of real highwaymen right
here in Connecticut. And still they do not seem like highwaymen, for then they would have robbed me and let me go. They are up to something else."