A box was dragged out of a corner and placed before young Merriwell, who sat on the edge of the bunk. Then a sheet of paper was produced and spread in front of the lad, while the stub of a lead pencil was thrust into his fingers.
“Now write,” savagely ordered the masked man—“write just what I tells yer to a minute ago!”
Dick hesitated, but seemed to succumb. Through his head a wild scheme had flashed. It bewildered him for a moment, but quickly his mind cleared and he began to write. He did so, however, with the utmost slowness, as if the task was a difficult and painful one. Spotted Dan was surprised to see the boy give in so quickly. He had fancied Dick would have obstinately refused until compelled to obey.
“Don’t put in a thing but just what I tells yer to,” commanded the masked man. “If yer does, youngster, you has ter write another letter, for we won’t deliver this one any at all. If you wants to get free, you has good sense and obeys all peaceful-like.”
“All right,” muttered Dick, as he slowly labored over the beginning of the message to Frank.
“Why, seems ter me this yer boy’s eddication has been a heap neglected,” said Dillon. “He finds it a whole lot hard to write.”
The masked man resumed his position where he could read what was being written. Somehow it didn’t seem to please him, for of a sudden he seized the sheet of paper and tore it up.
“Why for do you ramble around that yere way?” he demanded. “You puts it down plain and brief, with no preliminaries. Understand that?”
Then he produced another sheet of paper and laid it upon the box. Immediately Dick flung down the pen and lay back on the bunk.
“You go to Halifax!” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing. “I will write it just as I want to, or I won’t write it at all.”