"Have you any cords?" asked the young officer.
"Ay, faith I'll get the strongest cords that ye ever saw," exclaimed Zeb.
"You young imp, it was you who betrayed us," Baker said, bitterly.
"Yes, you are right. You see, I bear you no ill will," said the young scoundrel, "but money is useful, and they perhaps won't hang you, and if they do—well, you've got to die sometime, and you might as well make us comfortable by your death——"
Zeke was a little ashamed of his part in the transaction, though he had been ready enough to adopt his son's suggestion. But now that the deed was done, he would not allow the prisoners to be insulted by Zeb, and the boy's unfeeling remarks were cut short by a vigorous kick on his nether part which completely lifted him off the floor.
"You said you'd never—hit—me," he blubbered.
"I never said I'd never kick you, and I'll kick all I want to, you young rascal!"
"No, you won't," the young hopeful retorted.
"Yes, I will, and if you don't get those cords in a brace of shakes I'll make you so you won't sit down for a month."
Zeb knew enough of his father to be sure that he meant what he said, so he hurried to the barn, and soon returned with some strong rope, with which the two prisoners were securely bound.