“I don’t see that it’s of much use to halloo,” said Chumbley, sullenly, “but look here, old chap, what does this mean? Tell me, and I’ll be as quiet as a lamb.”
“Wait and see,” was the reply.
Chumbley was silent for a few minutes, drawing in long breaths of air. Then, addressing his captors, who seemed to him to be steadily rowing on:
“I say,” he exclaimed, “can I have this rag off my eyes?”
“No.”
Another pause, during which the prisoner listened to the pleasant ripple of the water against the boat.
“I say,” from Chumbley.
“Yes.”
“I can’t fight now or else I would.”
There was a low laugh, which seemed to come from a dozen throats, and the same deep voice replied: