By this time, their spent breath having come back and the cool rain on their heads having revived them, Tom and Ned were able to realize their desperate plight, and that it was desperate they had little reason to doubt.
Each of them was in the firm grasp of two evil men who, it was evident, would not hesitate to shoot if need be. But Tom Swift was not one to endure mistreatment silently. As he walked along he turned to one of his captors and demanded:
"What does this mean? Who are you, anyhow, and by what right are you taking us away?"
"Keep your shirt on, buddy," responded the man in what, doubtless, he meant to be a friendly and conciliatory tone. "You'll soon find out where you're going."
"And why!" added another, with a chuckle.
"Look here!" burst out Ned. "Maybe you don't know who we are!"
"Oh, we know all right, buddy," said the man who had first spoken to Tom. "It's because you are who you are that we got you."
"Orders from headquarters," said one who had not yet spoken.
"Shut up!" some one snarled at him.
The storm, after that outburst in which so many things had happened, now appeared to be subsiding. The thunder was not so loud nor the lightning so glaring and frequent. The rain, too, had slackened.