One of them procured a bottle of ink, some paper and a pen, and set them on the table.
“Come up here, boy, and write to Mr. Pettigrew,” he said in a tone of authority.
“What shall I write?”
“Tell him that you are a prisoner, and that you will not be released unless he pays five thousand dollars.”
“I don’t want to write that. It will be the same as asking him to pay it for me.”
“That is what we mean him to understand.”
“I won’t write it.”
Rodney knew his danger, but he looked resolutely into the eyes of the men who held his life in their hands. His voice did not waver, for he was a manly and courageous boy.
“The boy’s got grit!” said one of the men to the other.
“Yes, but it won’t save him. Boy, are you going to write what I told you?”