“Do you want your tongue cut out?”
Once more Percy disclaimed any consuming anxiety in that direction.
“Then you won’t move a step or speak a word unless you’re told. Do you mark that?”
The boy nodded; he did mark it.
Thereupon, much to his relief, the gag was taken from his mouth, and he felt himself hauled out of the ignominious sack.
“A drink!” he gasped.
“There he goes; I said he’d do it. Clap the gag on again.”
Poor blindfolded Percy could only wave his head appealingly. He would sooner have his throat cut than feel that gag back between his teeth. His captors let him off this once, and one of them untied the cords from his legs. He was too cramped to attempt to make any use of this partial liberty, even had he been so minded, and sank down, half fainting, to the ground.
“Give him a drink,” said one of the voices; and in a moment or two he felt a cup of delicious water held to his parched lips, reviving him as if by magic. A few coarse pieces of bread were also thrust between his lips; these he swallowed painfully, for his jaws were stiff and aching, and his teeth had almost forgotten their cunning. However, when the meal was over he felt better, and would gladly have slept upon it for an hour or two, had he been allowed.
But this was no part of his captors’ programme. They had not relaxed his bonds to indulge any such luxurious craving. Overstone Church had already sounded eleven, and they were due in an hour at the mountain shed.