"Friends, are you!" cried one of the men who had marched him off. "Up with your hands, sonny!"
There was no help for it, and Jack put up his hands, and his negro companions did likewise.
"I reckon as how we cotched ye nicely," went on the man with the gun. "Whar did ye come from—thet cabin up the mountain?"
"Yes."
"Whar is Dr. Mackey?"
"I do not know."
"Did he let ye go?"
"Of course he didn't let the boy go," growled Pete Gendron. "The niggers must have released him."
"Is that true, sonny?"
"That is none of your business," answered Jack, not knowing what else to say.