His interest, however, chiefly centered in two men who were hurriedly rushing a third into the place, closely followed by two women, while Badger was hastening to light a lantern.
“Good Heaven!” mentally exclaimed Nick. “Their captive is Patsy!”
He watched and waited, deducing more and more from the little he heard, and all the while his stern white features, still swathed with bandages, grew hard as flint.
Patsy felt the rope tighten about his neck.
Then sounded the revolver-shot from outside.
Next a dark form bounded out from back of the touring-car—bounded out with the leap of an angry lion.
Two clenched hands rose and fell, and two men dragging upon a rope cast over a beam were sent senseless to the earth, quivering in every muscle, as an ox quivers when felled in the shambles.
Then two hands closed around Amos Badger’s throat, and in the miscreant’s ears rang a voice and words that took all the strength and manhood, if any of the latter was there, completely out of him.
“It will be you, Badger, not I!”
“Whoop la!” shrieked Patsy. “It’s Nick himself!”