"There's a rope in that chest," put in the miser, who overheard the last remark. "Tie 'em up--don't let 'em get away."
"It's sorry ye'll be for sayin' that," exclaimed Mosey. "Oi'll tell--hic--all----"
Corrigan caught him by the arm.
"Shut up!" he whispered in his ear. "Can't you see Max is excited? Let him cool down. You will be getting us into a heap of trouble presently."
The rope in the chest was long and heavy, and Jack picked it up with considerable satisfaction.
"You first, Mosey," he said, "and none of your fooling, mind."
"That's all roight, Jack, me b'y. Oi'll not run a shtep. Never--hic--moind the rope," returned the Irishman in his oiliest tones.
"I won't trust you, Mosey," returned the young machinist firmly; and, assisted by Mont, he tied the man's hands behind him, and his feet in such a manner that he could barely take a walking step.
"Now your turn," said Jack to Corrigan.
"What are you going to tie me for?" asked that individual in pretended surprise. "I didn't shoot him."