Mr. Jukes hesitated. It was strange that this man of great affairs, before whom board meetings quailed, and who ruled almost supreme among the great money kings of New York, appeared to be lost now that he was out of his little world and among the great elemental things of the untraveled jungle.
“I’m sure I don’t know, Ready,” he replied.
“Ask him,” suggested Jack, with his hand on his revolver. He felt that a crisis of some sort was at hand, but it was too late to retreat now.
Mr. Jukes, with some of his old pomposity, put the question. The bearded man’s reply was brief and to the point.
“That is beside the question,” he snapped. “Are you coming with me?”
Before any reply could be made the bearded man’s eye caught the glint of Jack’s weapon. Instantly a shrill whistle sounded. From the trees leaped a dozen or more men.
“Howly saints! A trap!” yelled Muldoon.
“A trap!” echoed Jack. He raised his pistol to cover the black-bearded man. But before he had it leveled both he and Mr. Jukes were thrown from their feet by a combined attack and in a twinkling both the millionaire and the boy were helpless.
“Run for the house, Muldoon. Warn the others. Come after us as quick as you can.”
“Hold your horses there,” roared the black-bearded man, who, as our readers will have guessed, was ‘Bully’ Broom himself, with his band of renegade followers. He tried to block the boatswain’s path as Muldoon darted off.