Subtracting this amount from the total, he gave the remainder to Gus, who put it carelessly in his pocket as if accustomed to handling large sums of money.
Then he started along the bank of the stream, his companion accompanying him a short distance, and Fred realized that the time had come when he must make one desperate attempt to take his jailer prisoner.
"Gus has got nearly all the money," he said to himself, "and if I could manage to slip the ropes it would only be a question of a fight, in which I'm almost certain to get the upper hand."
He had been left seated with his back against the trunk of a tree, and the first move necessary was to release his arms.
To do this he struggled desperately, regardless of the pain; but the bonds remained firm until Gus returned, when, as a matter of course, he did not dare to make any further movement.
"Now Tim is so far away that he can't interfere, I'm going to pay you off for playin' the sneak," Gus said, as he took up his station directly in front of the prisoner. "If I had my way you shouldn't have a bite to eat from now out, an' by the time we get ready to leave you couldn't do much mischief."
"If you're afraid, why not kill me? That's the safest plan."
"I'd like to," was the savage reply, "an' would if I was sure of not bein' pulled up for murder. I can give you a lively time for the next two or three hours, though."
Gus began to fulfill his promise by tickling Fred's nose with a twig, and the prisoner was by no means averse to the cruel sport, since it gave him a good excuse to struggle.
He writhed and twisted as if to move beyond reach of his tormentor; but all the while his sole aim was to release his hands, and Gus was so deeply engrossed with the efforts to cause pain that he failed to understand what his victim might succeed in doing.