He twisted around and felt for his revolver, but it had fallen from his holster, and he felt his arms grasped and a thong pa.s.sed around his wrists, and then around his ankles.

The weight was lifted from him and he rolled over on his back. Standing above him was the man whom he knew as Checkers.

"Well, my lad, you delivered yourself like a lamb to the slaughter,"

said Checkers, with a smile.

Ted could say nothing. He was too busy wondering how easily he had fallen into the toils.

"You went up against a tough proposition when yon tackled me," continued the man. "It would have been a good thing for you if you had never run across me. You know too much to be left alive. I shall see that you are properly taken care of."

Checkers issued a shrill whistle.

"Come," he said to Ted, "get to your feet."

Ted arose as three men came around an elbow of the wall of the ravine.

"Take care of this boy," said Checkers to them. "And if he escapes--"

He finished the sentence with a smile that made the men wince.

CHAPTER XXIII.

STELLA IMITATES SANTA CLAUS.

"Come on, fellow," said one of the men, jerking Ted along by hops.

"We'll attend to him all right, boss," said another.

"He'll get all that's coming to him," said the third, with a grin that was almost as diabolical as that of Checkers.

Around the elbow of the ravine wall, in a small cove was a log cabin with a lean-to shed, under which was sheltered the fatal red car which had lured him to captivity.

The cabin was backed up against the wall of the ravine, and was small and dirty as to interior. A fire burned in a big stone fireplace at one end, filling the room with a suffocating smudge.

The room was almost dark, but Ted, from the corner into which he had been flung, was soon able to make out that the men were cooking something over the glowing embers, at the same time taking swigs from a black bottle, and smoking reeking pipes of vile tobacco.

After the food was cooked they began to eat, but did not offer Ted any of it, all the while making jokes at his expense, and vaguely hinting at his fate.

Ted wished now that he had taken Stella's advice, and had not rushed in so rashly. Had he waited for Bud and two or three of the boys to come to his a.s.sistance, he could easily have caught the whole lot for their cabin was in a perfect pocket from which they could not have escaped.

Who were these rough fellows with whom Checkers would not a.s.sociate, for Ted could hear his archenemy pacing up and down outside, and he had not forgotten how he had addressed these men?

Probably they were only ordinary villains who did the dirty work planned by the wiser heads of the syndicate. He wondered if the boys would be able to find him before they settled with him, as they had promised.

After the men had finished their meal the voice of the leader summoned them outside. Ted could hear commands being given in a low voice, and mumbles from the men.

It appeared from what Ted could gather from the tones of the voice, rather than from any words that he caught, that one of the men was protesting against what Checkers was ordering.

Suddenly there was a cry of agony.

"Don't do that, boss," said one of the men.

"Shut up, or you'll get a taste of the same knife," came the voice of Checkers in a tone of rage. "When I say a thing must be done it is as good as done. Now go ahead and do as I tell you."

"But, boss--"

"Go on, and do it. Are you a coward? You've done it before," Ted heard Checkers say. "I'm going away now, and if you can't show me what I want when I get back, well--you know."

In a moment Ted heard the chug of the motor car, then the grating of the tires on the earth as it started away.

"Remember what I said," the voice of Checkers came floating back.

"Say, Bill, this is a derned outrage," said one of the men outside. "I, fer one, am not in favor of standin' for it."

"Well, if yer don't, you'll get the same," said other man.

"I never see any one so handy with that bloomin' knife o' his."

"Look out you don't get a taste o' it, then."

"Is he dead, Bill?"

There was a shuffling of feet outside, and Ted knew that they were turning a body over.

"Yes, he's stone-dead."

"Pore d.i.c.k! He had his faults, but he was a good pal."

"He wuz, but too derned soft-hearted. He didn't want ter kill a feller in cold blood never."

"An' yet he wa'n't no coward. I never see ther time d.i.c.k w'd refuse ter fight if ther other feller had some show, an' he wa'n't squeamish about holdin' up a train er runnin' off a bunch o' cattle, but I always hear him say thet he didn't take no stock in plain, straight murder."

"That's so, but it's not murder, Tom, when yer kills ther feller what's yer enemy. Now, honor bright, is it?"

"I dunno. I was brought up ter fight, an' fight like ther devil hisself when it come ter fightin', but I reckon I'm too much o' a derned coward ter murder cold."

"Well, this is one o' ther times when it's got ter be did, an' I reckon we might as well be about it. Git ready."

"No, sir, I'm not goin' ter do it."

"Tom, yer a fool. Do yer know what'll happen when ther boss comes back an' finds out that it ain't been did?"

"I do."

"An' aire yer goin' ter resk it?"