"I'll show you whether you do or not," snorted the prisoner, who was trudging along doggedly with the nose of Ardmore's horse occasionally poking his back.
They soon reached a field where some laborers were at work, and Ardmore called them to him for instructions.
"Boys, this is one of the timber thieves; put him in that corn-crib until I come back for him. The nights are warm; the sky is perfectly clear; and you will kindly see that he does not lack for food."
Two of the men jumped forward and seized Ardmore's prisoner, who now broke forth in a torrent of wrath, struggling vigorously in the hands of the sturdy fellows who had laid violent hands on him.
"That's right, boys; that's right; easy there! Now in he goes."
A series of corn-cribs fringed the field, and into one of these, from which half the corn had been removed, the prisoner was thrust sprawling upon the yellow ears, and when he rose and flung himself round, the door of the corn-crib slammed in his face. He bellowed with rage now, seeing that his imprisonment was a serious matter, and that it seemed likely to be prolonged indefinitely.
"They always told me you were a fool," he howled, "but I didn't know that anything as crazy as you are was loose in the world."
"Thank you. The head of your gang is much more polite. He's sitting on his case of Chateau Bizet in my wine cellar, playing solitaire."
"Appleweight in your wine cellar!" bawled the captive in astonishment.
"Certainly. I was afraid to lock him in a room with bath for fear it might give him hydrophobia; but he's perfectly content in the wine cellar."