"Thank you; I doubt if the order would be honored."

"All this talk amounts to nothing," said Fox impatiently. "I tell you that if you release me I will bring or send you the money."

"And how soon would you want it back again?"

"Whenever I saw my way clear to taking it," said the outlaw boldly.

"I like that talk. It looks square. I'll think over your offer, friend Fox, and let you know in the morning what I decide to do."

The outlaw frowned. He evidently did not like the prospect of remaining in captivity overnight.

"What are you going to do with me to-night?" he asked.

"We have a comfortable place provided," answered Luke. "Mr. Mason, if you will give your a.s.sistance, we will show our guest where we propose to put him."

"Unbind me and I will save you the trouble."

"No doubt; but there are some objections to that."

The outlaw was lifted from the wagon and carried upstairs to the attic.

His ankles as well as his wrists were securely tied, so that he was unable to walk.

"Friend Fox," said Luke politely, "there is a bed and there is a shakedown," pointing to the blankets on the floor. "You can take your choice. I hope you will like your hotel."

"I shall like it better if it provides refreshments," replied Fox. "I am famished."

"I am sure Mrs. Mason will furnish you with a meal. I will speak to her."

The outlaw seated himself on the bed and the cord about his wrists was loosened so that he might be able to eat. This might have been regarded as dangerous, as affording him an opportunity to escape, but for two reasons.

In a chair opposite sat Luke Robbins with a revolver in his hand, watching his prisoner sharply.

"If you make any attempt to escape," he said quietly, "I shall shoot. Now you understand and will be guided accordingly."

In spite of his unpleasant situation the outlaw could not help admiring the coolness and resolution of his guard.

"You would make a capital accession to my band," he remarked.

"If that is meant for a compliment," said Luke dryly, "I thank you."

"You had better think it over. Join my band and I will make it worth your while."

He fixed his eyes earnestly upon his captor to see whether he had made any impression upon him.

"When I start on any road," he said, "I like to know where it is coming out."

"Well, this road will lead to wealth."

"I don't read it that way."

"How then?"

"It will more likely lead to a violent death--or the gallows."

"I have been on that path for ten years and I am alive and----"

"A prisoner."

"Yes, at present; but I can tell you this, my Quaker friend, that the tree has not yet grown that will furnish a gallows for John Fox."

"Perhaps so, but I don't feel sure of it."

The outlaw's predicament did not appear to interfere with his appet.i.te.

When he had completed his meal Luke called the farmer and requested him to tie his wrists again.

"You can do it better than I," he said. "Besides, I shall need to stand guard."

CHAPTER XII

JOHN FOX FINDS A KNIFE

The outlaw was left for several hours alone in the attic of the farmer's house. He felt far from comfortable, and he experienced great mortification at the thought that he had been captured by a Quaker.

"I shall never hold up my head again--that is," he added after a pause, "unless I circ.u.mvent him and get away."

Fox dragged himself to the window and looked out.

"If only my brother knew where I was," he reflected, "he would soon turn the tables on those clodhoppers."

But, as he knew, his brother was twenty miles away on a different expedition.

John Fox was a man of expedients. In his long career as an outlaw he had more than once been "in a hole," but he had never failed by some means to extricate himself.

It was not for some time that he bethought himself of a knife that he had in his pocket. If he could get it out he would be able to cut the ropes that bound him and escape, if he were not interfered with.

He looked out of the window again and saw Luke Robbins and the farmer walking up the road.

"They think I am safe," soliloquized Fox, "but perhaps they may find themselves mistaken."

He reflected with satisfaction that there was no one in the house but Mrs.

Mason and himself. Yet as matters stood he was helpless even against her.

As it was uncertain how long his two jailers would be absent, it behooved him to escape as soon as possible. There was a difficulty in the way, as his hands were securely tied together at the wrist, and he could not thrust them into his pocket and obtain the knife. But possibly by rolling over he might manage to make it slip out. It seemed the only possible way to accomplish his object, so he at once set to work. Rolling over and over, he at length found himself in such a position that the knife--a large jackknife--slipped from the gaping mouth of the pocket.

"Ha, that is the first step toward success!" he cried triumphantly.