"The ropes, quick!" said a low, rough voice, and before they could do a thing their hands were bound tightly behind them.
"Wha—what does this mean?" gasped Fred, trying to squirm from under the party who held him down.
"Shut up!" came the command. "If you don't, you'll get a crack over the head!"
The voice was rough and unnatural, as if the speaker was trying to conceal his identity.
"You'll pay for this!" came from Joe. He was wondering if the assailants belonged to the gang of tramps that had been rounded up during the game of hare and hounds.
At last the boys were allowed to stand up, and much to their astonishment they found themselves confronted by a party of three men or boys, which they could not tell. Each of the three had a big, black cloth over his head, tied with a string around his neck and with two holes in front, so that the wearer could see. All were armed with clubs.
"Is this a trick, or what?" demanded Joe, after a pause.
"Shut up!" came in reply, and the speaker brandished his club in such a savage fashion that Joe felt compelled to step back.
Against their will the two prisoners were marched along the road to where a path led still further up the lake shore. They were forced to walk along this path until they reached a perfect wilderness bordering the lake. Then one of the masked fellows went off, leaving the other two to remain on guard.
"What do you make of this?" asked Fred, in a low tone.