All four of the men seemed to be half-breeds, dirty and roughly clad. Ned felt a feeling of repulsion which would have been expressed by blows had his feet and hands been at liberty.
The climb up the mountain was a slow one, and one not at all pleasant to the boy as they insisted on carrying him feet foremost. At last, however, they came to a level shelf of fair size whereon a tent had been pitched.
There was a fire in front of the tent, and a large, fleshy, well-dressed man sat on a packing box industriously whittling a pine stick. Not far away, and bent over a mass of dirty dishes, was a man who seemed to be older and a great deal taller than the man on the box.
This latter individual’s face was thin and dark and lighted by a pair of eyes which seemed almost lidless, like those of a snake. Both men were very neatly dressed in tailor-made garments although the articles of clothing showed the effects of mountain climbing.
The litter was set down in front of the tent and Ned lost no time in taking a sitting position. The fat man looked him over benevolently.
“Well, son,” he said in a moment, “you made no effort to make my acquaintance, and so I sent the boys to ask you over.”
“They did it all right!” Ned answered.
The fat man now motioned to the half-breeds, who proceeded to search the boy for weapons and then cut his bonds.
“Now,” said the fat man, “we may as well introduce ourselves. You are Ned Nestor, I take it? Well, my name is Richard Toombs, recently of the city of New York.”
“How did you happen to escape?” asked Ned scornfully.