"What do you mean?" asked Jack.
"Just what I say. If it is, you had better make terms to save it."
"Impossible. You are fooling with me, Jarrow. Even a man as base as you wouldn't dare——"
"I wouldn't, eh? Well, you'll find out before long if I'm in earnest or not."
Jack was a brave lad, as we know, and carried himself well through many dangerous situations. But he was not the dauntless hero of a nickel novel whom nothing could scare. He knew Jarrow for a desperado and, although he could not bring himself to believe the man would actually carry out any such threat as he had made, still he realized to the full the peril of his situation.
"Well, what do you say?" demanded Jarrow, after a pause.
"I don't know just what to say," said Jack. "My head is all in a whirl. Give me time to think the thing over. I can hardly collect my thoughts at present."
The men made some further attempts to get something out of him, but, finding him obdurate, they ordered Bill to see that his bonds were tight and then to put him in the "inner room" he had spoken of. Bill gave the ropes a savage yank, found they were tight and then led Jack to a green door at the farther end of the large room. Jack had a glimpse of a square room with a broad fireplace at one end and a small window. It appeared to be used as a storehouse of some kind, for it was half filled with bags, apparently containing potatoes. In one corner stood a grindstone operated by a treadle. Then the door was shut with a bang, and he was left to his own, none-too-pleasant reflections. Outside he could hear the buzz of voices. But he couldn't catch much of what was being said. Once he heard Jarrow say:
"You're too soft with the boy. A good lashing with a black-snake would bring him to his senses quick enough."
"I'd like to lay it on," he heard Donald chime in.