Then, to his ears, came the murmur of voices—voices strange to him. So faint was the light in the distance that it was of no service to him where he stood waiting in the darkness; waiting for he knew not what.
The voices increased in loudness, showing that the speakers were approaching. Then he heard footsteps echoing strangely in the hollow tunnel.
“If there’s going to be a fight I’d better get ready for it,” Tom told himself fiercely. He stooped and began feeling about on the ground for a loose rock or a club. But he could find nothing. Then like a flash it came to him.
“One of the files! They’re pretty sharp on the handle end. As good as a knife! I’ll use it like a knife if I have to,” he mused desperately.
He drew one of the files from his pocket, grasped it firmly, and waited in the darkness for what was to happen next.
CHAPTER III
MASKED MEN
After the treatment that had been accorded him, Tom Swift rather welcomed than otherwise a chance to come to grips with the men who were responsible for his position. Usually even-tempered and generous, just now he felt eager for vengeance and he would not have cared much if two men had attacked him at once.
Strangely enough he did not feel weak or ill now. He had, somewhat, when he first regained his senses after having been overpowered by some drug. But his brain had cleared and he kept himself in such good physical trim all the while that even a night of unconsciousness had not sapped his strength.
The light in the distance did not increase any, from which Tom gathered that it was full daylight with the sun well above the horizon, and after that first murmur of voices and the sound of footsteps these sounds did not come any nearer. Nor did Tom catch a glimpse of any figures between himself and that little circle of light.
Then from some point outside the cave or tunnel he heard voices calling. They were louder than the first, and there seemed to be some dispute or disturbance.