"Not much!" I cried.
"You are in my power."
"I don't care. Go ahead and do your worst," I replied recklessly, willing to suffer almost anything rather than apologize to such a chap as Duncan Woodward.
Besides, what had I done to call for an apology? I had certainly treated him no worse than he deserved. He was a spoilt boy and a bully, and I would die rather than go down on my knees to him.
"You don't know what's in store for you," said Dunce, nonplussed by my manner.
"As I said before, I'll risk it."
"Very well. Where is the rope, boys?"
"Here you are," answered Pultzer. "Plenty of it."
As he spoke he produced a stout clothes line, five or six yards in length.
"We'll bind his hands a little tighter first," instructed Duncan, "and then his legs. Be sure and make the knots strong, so they won't slip. He must not escape us."