"Go and get another rope."
The farmer left the house, and going to an out-house, returned with a stout clothes line.
"Tie him again while I hold him," was Luke's command. "Tie him as securely as before--more so, if possible. How did you get loose?"
"Find out for yourself," said the outlaw sullenly.
"I mean to, and I don't intend that you shall escape the second time."
Meanwhile John Fox was execrating his folly in not escaping when he had the chance. If he had not waited for the revolver and money, he might by this time have been out of danger.
Yet he was not without hope. What he had done once he might do again. He still had the knife in his pocket. It was ready for use, and he meant to use it.
No doubt he would be taken back to the attic, and probably pass the night there. If Luke Robbins should be his companion, all the better. After cutting his bonds, the knife could be put to another use, and might end the life of the man who had inflicted such humiliation upon him.
He did not speak, but his eyes betrayed him. There was such a revengeful gleam in them that Luke read their meaning without trouble.
"If I am ever at the mercy of that ruffian," he thought, "I wouldn't give much for my chance of keeping a whole skin."