"Where do you want me to go?" he asked.
"Oh, we show you," replied the late guide, in a tone half implying that he stood ready to do his young captive a great favor.
There appeared to be no help for it. Grim faced, and with teeth tightly clenched, Captain Jack allowed himself to be led on through the woods, both his arms being still tightly held by his conductors. Had they intended any more dastardly violence, he reasoned, they could easily have carried out their purpose without having hauled him to his feet.
No more was said as the three tramped through the woods. Though the Italians did not by any means relax their hold, they used no more force than seemed necessary for their purpose. Indeed, they acted with that smooth consideration typical of the Latin races, even in bad moments.
A tramp of a quarter of a mile brought them to a little clearing in the woods. In the middle of the open space stood a building. As he got closer young Benson saw that it was a dilapidated-looking structure that for many years, probably, had not been a home.
The front door stood open, however, and to this the captors marched their victim.
"Look out you do not trip over broken sill," admonished the late guide, politely. Then, as all three moved into the dark interior:
"You be good, and lay down on floor for minute. That's all."
Jack felt his feet kicked out from under him. Down he went, one of the Italians sitting firmly on him. The other went across the room, fumbled, and presently lighted a lantern in an open cupboard.
"Now, you come along, no fuss and no hurt," advised the late guide, as they raised the boy. They conducted him through into a rear room, where one of the pair raised a trap-door in the floor.