But he never finished the sentence.
A mocking laugh sounded in his rear. Frank turned like a flash to see a dozen armed brigands back of him.
He was covered by as many carbines.
The young inventor’s heart fell.
There was no use to offer resistance. He was wholly and hopelessly a prisoner. To surrender was his only move.
“You see, Senor Americano,” cried Red Muriel himself, mockingly, “you cannot escape my vengeance. Before you worked a very clear game. But you shall not succeed this time.”
It was certainly a most disheartening occurrence.
But Frank put a bold face on the matter.
“All right,” he said, coolly, in Spanish; “I am your prisoner, Senor Muriel. I cannot resist as I would like to do.”
In a twinkling his arms were bound behind him.