CHAPTER XVIII.
A RIDE FOR LIFE.
The next moment the door was flung open, but not before Nat had jumped to his feet. He did not want his enemies, least of all Dayton, to find him crouching in a despondent attitude. To have brought despair to Nat's heart was the one thing above all others, the lad realized, which would delight Ed. Dayton highly.
Dayton was accompanied by Manuello and Al. Jeffries. The latter seemed highly amused at the turn things had taken.
"Well! well! well! What have we here!" he cried ironically, tugging his long black mustaches as the light from the passage streamed in upon Nat, "a young automobiling rooster who's about to get a lesson in manners and minding his own business. Oh say, Ed., this is luck. Here is where you get even for the other day."
"Oh, dry up," admonished Dayton sullenly, "I know my own business best."
He advanced toward Nat with a sinister smile on his pale face. Dayton had, as Manuello had informed Colonel Morello, been off hunting. His clothes were dust covered, from the tip of his riding boots—high heeled and jingle spurred in the Mexican fashion—to the rim of his broad sombrero. He had evidently lost no time in proceeding to the cell as soon as he learned that Nat was a captive.
"Looks as if we had you bottled up at last, my elusive young friend," he grated out, "this is the time that you stay where we want you."
"What are you going to do, Dayton?" asked Nat, his face pale but resolute, though his heart was beating wildly. Knowing the man before him as he did, he had no reason to expect any compassion, nor did he get any.
"You'll see directly," rejoined Dayton, "come with me. I'm going to let the colonel boss this thing."