“Don’t use your tongue too much, my young friend, or I might get mad, and give you something to remember.”
“You have given me something to remember.”
Burnett smiled.
“One more little operation, and I will bid you good-night.”
He drew from his pocket a strong cord and proceeded to tie Tom’s hands.
“What are you doing?” asked Tom, struggling.
“I don’t mean that you shall follow me. To-morrow morning some one will come along and release you.”
Percy Burnett had nearly accomplished his task, despite Tom’s resistance, when both he and Tom were startled by the voice of one apparently close at hand:
“What are you about, you scoundrel?”
Percy Burnett turned his head suddenly, and his face paled, as he saw in the twilight a man ten paces distant, holding in his hand a revolver.