The restraining arms were drawn away, but Dirk stood motionless, refusing to reply. Sightless, he knew that he could not run, or even walk, more than a few steps before he would again be brought to the ground with a crash. Where was he? Far from any help, any sympathetic leader who could put a stop to the cruel hazing. Was Ryan determined to push him, helpless, through the motions of a travesty of a track meet, in disregard of bruises and broken bones?
“Go!” rasped the voice. “Run! Run, or——”
Dirk flinched as he felt the sharp knife-point pierce the skin of his thigh. His terror was rising, but he did not cry out.
A horrible moment of waiting; then Dirk heard his unseen tormenter laugh wickedly to himself.
“He won’t play with us, boys! Well, that’s his hard luck! Too bad! It’s over the cliff for him!”
“Over the cliff!” echoed the henchmen hollowly. “We gave him his chance. Come on, you!”
Again Dirk was dragged through the forest, more roughly than before. His captors twisted about so that he had not the least idea in which direction they were heading, but it seemed as if ages passed before they halted at last. During the painful journey he had tried to make some plan for escape; but it was of no use—there were three of them, holding him closely; he could neither see them nor his surroundings, and his hands were tightly bound. Was their threat merely a sham, or were they really now nearing some steep, jagged wall of rock in the forest?
“Don’t move!” warned Ryan suddenly. “We’re right on the edge of Indian Cliff! Now, Baby, we’ll give you one more chance. Will you behave and do your stuff in our moonlight track meet? Or do you want to end up a hundred feet below, down on those big rocks, with a busted neck?”
Dirk’s head was whirling. He tried to fight free, but the clutch of the restraining arms tightened, and an ungentle hand made sure his blindfold was still secure. He cautiously felt out with one slippered foot. A few inches before him, the grassy earth ended in a crumbling edge. A tingle of horror rose up the boy’s spine.
“Indian Cliff,” Ryan’s voice assured him harshly. “That’s where they’ll find you in the mornin’. Well, what about it? Yes or no?”