“I may be up in the Canadian Rockies, for all I know,” he muttered.
Hippy sank down, weak and trembling.
For a change, he rolled back and forth, pulling himself up to the window again and again, and each time found himself stronger than before.
“If I were free and had a gun I’d show those cowards something!” raged the Overlander, his anger rising. “Why did they have to pick on me? I wonder what the folks at the camp are think—”
“Sh-h-h-h!”
It was a low, sibilant hiss from the window, and Hippy fell suddenly silent.
“Keep quiet and listen to me,” warned a hoarse voice. “The gang is out of range, but we don’t know when one or more of ’em will be back. I’m coming in.”
Not being able to answer, except with a grunt, the Overlander merely grunted his understanding.
The stranger leaped into the room and felt for the prisoner.
“I am going to cut you loose. Are you wounded?”