"Dry up!" Kilgore sharply interrupted, while he and Stall quickly secured Nick's arms with a rope. "You'll not live to know the game that we have played, Nick Carter."
"Won't I?"
"Not if I live!" cried Kilgore, with vicious significance.
"Well, maybe you'll not live long," retorted Nick.
"I'll close that saucy trap of yours, at all events," sneered Kilgore. "Give me that gag, Matt—quick."
Nick no longer resisted. A glance at the clock on the mantel told him that nearly ten minutes had passed since he left Chick. He suffered himself to be gagged, then raised to his feet, from which Pylotte now cast the line and emerged from under the table.
Nick bestowed one look upon him, from which the rascal shrank and shuddered.
Kilgore now turned quickly to Venner, and hurriedly cried:
"You remain here, Rufe, and leave us to dispose of this fellow. We'll run him over yonder, and return as quickly as possible. It's not safe to keep him here until we have landed his running mate."
"But—"