“No, I think not,” mumbled Hippy, but his words were unintelligible.
The first thing the stranger did was to remove the gag, which he did with so much care that the operation gave no pain. Then came the leather thongs. These he ripped off with a few deft sweeps of a knife, and Lieutenant Wingate was a free man so far as his bonds were concerned.
“Can you walk?” in the same hoarse voice.
“I could fly if I had to,” was the brief reply. “Who are you?”
“You wouldn’t know if I told you. Here!” The man thrust a revolver into his hand. “Don’t use it unless you have to. We aren’t out of the woods by a long shot. Come!”
The stranger assisted Hippy through the window, which was accomplished with some difficulty, for Lieutenant Wingate was stiff and sore. A firm hand was fixed on his arm, and his companion began leading him rapidly away. Not a word was spoken for several minutes—not until they had plunged into the dark depths of a canyon, through which the man picked the way unerringly.
“How are you standing it?” was the question abruptly put to Lieutenant Wingate.
“Rotten! But I’ll pick up speed as I go along and get my motors warmed up.”
The stranger chuckled.
“Where are we going?”