On up the dark and muddy road the big touring car was guided. It was so gloomy that, aside from the fact that there were trees and bushes on each side of the highway, Tom and Ned could see nothing.
"How you feeling, Tom?" asked Ned, easing himself in the seat.
"Pretty rotten!"
"So do I! But I'm glad we had that ham omelet."
"So am I!" laughed the young inventor. "But I'd like some dry clothes," he added.
"Same here."
Their captors did not seem to object to their talk, for there was no command to be silent. Nor, it was evident, did they fear any alarm being given or pursuit undertaken, since no precautions were taken. Tom and Ned guessed that the rascals knew they were pretty safe from disturbance while on Dismal Mountain.
How far they were driven, the two prisoners did not know. But about half an hour after they had gotten into the auto it began to slow up and the reason was evident. They had come to where a private drive led off from the main highway. It was a drive leading between two great stone posts which, in their day, must have supported immense iron gates. But the gates had long since rusted away or been carried away.
"Is this the entrance to the castle?" asked Tom of the man who had called him "buddy" several times, though perhaps more out of habit than affection.
"This is the shack," was the answer. "You'll get out in a few minutes."