“Are you, sir?”
“Yes, I am.”
The man seized the lad by the arms, but the next instant he began to writhe and twist, and finally fell to the floor, evidently paralyzed and helpless. Ike was a powerful fellow for his age. He raised the man and placed him in the chair, and his natural genius for invention discovered to him at a glance how the chair was operated, and in less time than we can tell the man was secured in the chair. So skillful was the contrivance that a casque settled upon his head, closed and held his jaws together better than any gag ever invented, and there he sat powerless and speechless.
Then Ike spoke. He had but an instant to stay and he talked like a streak.
“[Good day, my friend], we will meet again. Send home the cat when you find him.”
Ike did not descend to the floor from which he had been led up, but ascended the scuttle well and passed out to the roof. He thought he could take his chance better that way rather than risk a second capture.
He had little difficulty in reaching the roof and closing the covering after him. He started to navigate across the house tops, looking for a convenient place for a descent to the street.
In the meantime the men continued their talk. One of them asked:
“Do you think the ‘cops’ are on our track?”
“I did not think so until I captured that detective ‘kid.’”