Nor was there any doubt in the mind of either young man that the black, after playing with them, meant to dispose of them as his possession of pistols indicated.
He would torment them first, then ruthlessly "shoot them up."
"How long are we to keep our hands up?" asked Tom banteringly.
It would be foolish to say that Reade was not afraid, but he was determined to keep Ebony from discovering the fact.
"Yo's to keep yo' hands up longer dan yo' can keep yo' moufs shut!" scowled the black man, his ugly streak showing once more.
"It makes me think of the way we used to play football," laughed Reade, though there was not much mirth in his chuckle.
"Shut yo' mouf, or Ah done gib yo' plenty to think erbout!" ordered Sambo angrily.
That word "football" set Dick Prescott to tingling. He knew there was some hidden meaning in what Tom had said.
"Are you trying to signal us, Sambo?" queried the army officer.
That word "signal" was intended only for Tom's ear, for Lieutenant Prescott was beginning to guess at the truth.