“Sit down!” he commanded.
Having no means of resisting, we sat down, side by side.
“Now, keep quiet,” said the man; and turning to the other he went on: “Pardner, get behind them. If either of ’em moves, blow his head off.”
“DROP THAT!”
This gentle hint was not lost upon us; we sat silent and motionless while the red-haired man, slipping away among the trees, disappeared in the direction of the creek. In half a minute we heard his voice again; there was some angry growling of old Ulysses, a few loud, sharp words, and directly afterwards Jack appeared, carrying a bucket of water in one hand and dragging Ulysses by the collar with the other; urged upon his way by the persuasive influence of a rifle, the muzzle of which was being held within two feet of the small of his back.
“Tie up your dog,” said the man, “if you don’t want him shot; and then sit down by your friends.”
Jack did so—and there we were, captured at last, in spite of our precautions.
That our captors were Squeaky and Bates we had no doubt whatever. Squeaky’s voice would have betrayed him, even if we had had no previous suspicions. It was plain, from their wearing masks, that they wished to avoid recognition; besides which, Bates, as an extra precaution, and evidently by preconcerted arrangement, was careful not to say a word, knowing that we should almost certainly recognise his voice. As someone, however, must issue orders, it fell to Squeaky to take that risk of being found out; he perhaps hoping that if we should notice his peculiar voice we should never think of connecting it with the man whom we had overheard in the dark in the little cabin by the railroad track away back in Nebraska. It must be remembered that neither of them was aware of the fact that we had knowledge of their presence in this part of the world.
“What’s all this about?” asked Jack, with a great show of boldness, as soon as he was seated. “And who are you?” he added, at the same time giving me a surreptitious nudge in the ribs, which I passed on to Percy.