So he began to beat about with his fists, and to kick with his heavy shoes, in a manner that made it very uncomfortable for Vasco and Dalsett.
“Quit that, you young cub, or I’ll hurt you!” exclaimed Vasco.
“Yes, an’ I’ll do the same!” growled Dalsett, and, recognizing the voice, Bob knew for the first time into whose hands he had fallen.
He did not heed the command to stop struggling, and it was all the two men could do to hold him. Suddenly they laid him down.
“Look here!” exclaimed Dalsett, sitting on Bob to keep him still, “if you want us to tie you up like a steer we’re willin’ to do it. An’ we’ll gag you into the bargain. If you quit wigglin’ you’ll be treated decent.”
“Then you take this bag off my head!” demanded Bob, with some spirit.
“I will if you promise to walk an’ not make us carry you,” promised Dalsett.
“I’ll walk until I get a good chance to get away,” replied Bob, determined to give no parole.
“Mighty little chance you have of gittin’ away,” remarked Dalsett, as he removed the sack.
It was as dark as a pocket, and Bob wondered where he was. Soon one of the men came with a lantern, and by the gleam the captive could see he was in the tunnel.