“Golly goodness! It am dat,” declared Jumbo in awed tones, “dat fire dere puts me in mo’ fear ob dat bottomless pit dan all de preachifying I ever listened to.”
But their retreat into the woods was checked in a strange manner. Rob, who was in advance, recoiled suddenly. A whole section of the woodland floor seemed to uprear itself before his eyes, and a wild figure, with a tangled black beard and shifty, wicked eyes, emerged. Rob realized in a flash that it was a trapdoor cleverly concealed by brush and earth that had just opened. Simultaneously he recognized the figure that was crawling from it as that of Black Bart himself.
The man was too much perturbed to notice their nearness to him. But suddenly his eyes fell on them. With a furious oath he dashed at Rob.
“You young fiend! You’re responsible for this!” he yelled in a frenzy.
A knife glittered in his hand, but before he could use it Jumbo’s black fist collided with his jaw. Black Bart fell sprawling back upon the trap door which he had just opened.
“Reckon Jack Johnson himself couldn’t hev done no bettah!” grinned the negro.
“Oh, no you don’t, sah!” he exclaimed the next instant as Black Bart struggled to rise; “ah reckon you can repose yo’self right dar fo’ a peahriod ob time.”
So saying he pinioned the ruffian’s arms to his sides and held him thus.
As he did so, violent knockings began to resound from under the trap-door. Evidently somebody was imprisoned there.
“Hey! Let us out! Let us out!” came sharp cries from below, albeit they were considerably muffled by the trap-door.