They all remained silent, to make sure. The fugitive bound boy cowered lower in his seat. His terror-filled eyes glanced to the right and left, as though he contemplated immediate flight.
Frank put out his hand reassuringly.
"Don't you move. Trust us, Jed," he said quietly.
"But it's him—oh! I heard him speak! Don't I know his voice? Haven't I waked up many a time, thinking I heard it in my dreams? And nearly always he swears at me, and cuts me with that whip! Don't you think it would be better if I hid?" he asked, his confidence not quite so strong as it had been a while back.
"Don't move. I give you my word that he isn't going to take you back, and that we won't let him even put his finger on you, Jed. Do you believe me?"
The poor waif looked into the determined face of Frank. What he saw there seemed to give him a new lease of faith, for he did not make any further effort at flight.
Nearer came the gruff voices.
"Perhaps you other fellows had better get ready to repel boarders," remarked Frank, as he too, reached out and secured his shotgun.
Jerry did likewise, while Will picked up his camera and hied him away to a spot where he thought he might secure a flashlight picture of the scene.
And hardly had the stage been set after this fashion than two rough-looking men showed up on the edge of the camp, standing there while they looked the group over.