Grumblingly they arose, leaving Nat lying half unconscious on the deck. Casting the lad's limp form to one side, Dayton, too, got on his feet, pouring forth a torrent of foul language.
"It served you right, Dayton," was all the comfort he obtained from Colonel Morello. "The boy is absolutely in our power. There is no need for haste in taking our revenge."
"I'd like to make the cub walk the plank," bellowed Dayton, feeling his eye, which was rapidly swelling where Nat's fist had struck it.
"We will think of something better than that—something more original," purred the colonel, in his silkiest tones. "In the meantime, you, Hicks, and you, Britt, take this young whelp down to the forehold. Tie him to a stanchion down there till I get ready to deal with him."
Nat, who had by this time staggered painfully to his feet, could not repress a shudder at the words and at the tone in which they were spoken. To his chagrin, his temporary accession of weakness was swiftly noted by Morello, who grinned delightedly.
"Ah, you may well shudder," he exclaimed. "Bolder people than you have shuddered and turned pale before when they faced Colonel Morello."
Nat did not reply. For one thing he felt weak and dizzy. His head had started bleeding again, following his struggle with Dayton and his subsequent suppression. Moreover, he was in need of food and water. To his surprise, as he was led away by Britt and Hicks, Colonel Morello gave the men orders to feed the boy as soon as possible.
"We don't want him to die before we are through with him," he explained to Dayton, who was inclined to protest against this seeming humanity.
The young Motor Ranger did not hear this remark. It was as well that he did not. His spirits were quite low enough already.