Bobby Blake in the Frozen North; Or, The Old Eskimo's Last Message

by Frank A. Warner

This they did, but without success. The damp walls seemed unbroken by any opening save that place where the stairs led down from the floor above. Time and again they felt painstakingly about the clammy place, but the last trip was no more profitable than the first.

“I guess we’re up against it,” said Mouser, at last. “About the only thing left to do is sit down and wait for the next move on the part of the jailers. They’ve got us dead to rights, and I suppose there’s no use squealing.”

“Not a bit in the world,” agreed Bobby. “Likely enough they’re only trying to scare us, anyway. Maybe when they think we’ve been down here long enough, they’ll let us go.”

“Well, I’d like to get a wallop or two at Lemming before I go,” remarked Fred, grimly. “That was a beaut that you handed him at the beginning of the scrimmage, Bobby.”

“I landed him the best I knew how, anyway,” acknowledged his friend. “I guess he knew something had hit him.”

The boys did their best to keep up their spirits and remain cheerful, but as the hours dragged themselves along and no sound came from their captors, their misgivings grew stronger and stronger. What had Hen Lemming meant when he had said that it would be a long time before they saw home again? Was this mere idle talk on the part of the bully, or was there a sinister intention behind it? These and many other speculations occupied their minds in the endless hours that they spent in the moldy cellar, and it was with sensations of relief that they at last heard the key grate in the lock at the head of the stairs.

“Come up here one by one, you fellows, and be quick about it,” ordered the harsh voice of the leader of the bullies, and the boys had no choice but to obey.

Bobby was the first to ascend the stairs, and as he reached the top he was seized, a gag thrust into his mouth, and something smothering and muffling descended over his head. He struggled fiercely, but he had no chance against the superior numbers of his captors. A heavy sack was drawn down over his head and shoulders until it reached his feet, and then the open end was gathered together and he found himself as helpless as a prisoner well could be. What had happened to his companions he did not know, and was almost afraid to imagine.

He was dropped none too gently to the floor, where he lay for quite a while. He could hear his captors moving about the room and talking in low voices, but could not make out what was said. After a long time he heard the voice of Lemming, apparently giving some order, and shortly afterward he was lifted to the shoulders of two of the gang. These men descended a different flight of steps from those leading into the cellar where the boys had originally been confined, and near the bottom they set Bobby down and seemed to be fumbling with something.

In reality, one of them was undoing a padlock that secured a door set into a stone wall, and after considerable difficulty he yanked the door open and the two men picked up their helpless burden again and proceeded through a narrow and damp tunnel. The passage was scarcely five feet high, and many times Bobby was bumped and scraped against the roof as the two men carried him along.