"Yes." Tom was trying to think where he had heard that name, but could not remember.
"Are you alone?"
"Well, hardly." Bill Noxton hesitated for a moment. "I was alone, but day before yesterday I fell in with a couple of Englishmen who are out here to see the sights, and they hired me to show 'em around. Our camp is just below here. Will you come down an' be introduced to the beef-eaters?"
"I suppose I might as well," answered Tom, never suspecting any trick. "I certainly don't want to remain alone any longer."
"Then come on. I told the beef-eaters I would be back inside of half an hour."
The man waited for Tom to mount, and then led the way down the hillside and into the valley. There was a patch of forest to pass, and they came out in a clearing on another hill, overlooking a mountain stream which flowed a hundred feet below.
"Here we are," cried Bill Noxton, as he suddenly wheeled behind
Tom. "Shall I introduce you, Mr. Rover?"
Tom looked ahead, and his heart dropped.
There around a camp-fire sat Arnold Baxter and his son Dan, and a man who was a stranger to him. Clearly he was trapped, and in the hands of the enemy.