"You've taken a lot of trouble for your fun," said Dave. He did not believe the man's statement.
"Eat your supper, Porter," growled the man, and sank down on a chair close to the door. "No funny work now, mind you!" And he brandished the very stick Dave had carried for self-protection.
There was no help for it, and sitting down to the table Dave began to eat and to drink. The sandwiches were fresh, and so was the pie, and as the ride in the keen air had given him an appetite, he disposed of them quickly. The tea tasted rather bitter, but he was dry and speedily drained the cup. The man watched him drink, with evident satisfaction.
"Now you had better lie down and try and get a little rest," said the fellow of the mask. "When I want you I'll call you." And so speaking he left the room, locking the door after him.
As soon as the man was gone Dave tried to loosen the rope that bound his feet together. It was a hard task and took some time, and bending over seemed to make his head swim. When he straightened up his head grew even more dizzy, and almost before he knew it he was staggering around.
"What a queer sensation!" was his thought. "What in the world is the matter with me?" And then like a flash came the answer. "That tea! It must have been drugged!"
The captive was right in his surmise. The tea had been drugged, and soon poor Dave felt so dizzy he had to rest on the bed. He tried several times to rouse up, and then his senses forsook him completely.
Dave had been unconscious for about a quarter of an hour when the man came in, looked at him, and shook him. Then he went below.
"Well, we've got him," he said to the others. "He is practically dead to the world."
"Good!" was the answer. "Better bring him down right away. We want to get this job over."