Then, with an exultant cry, Don leaped upon the back of Jacob Farnum, catching him around the neck and bearing him to the ground.

"Run, Benson!" cheered young Melville, "He'll never catch you now!"

CHAPTER XI

WHAT BEFELL THE REAL BENSON

Whistling softly, the real Jack Benson went along cheerily to the appointed place.

Being wholly courageous, there was no thought of dread in his mind over any possible treachery.

As he came in sight of the two trees, between which he had been asked to meet the Italian, he made out a man waiting there.

"Good evening," came the low, soft hail.

Then the speaker stepped forward, proving to be the same who had accosted the young submarine captain in the afternoon.

"Good evening," was Jack's pleasant reply. "You're on time, I see."

"Oh, sure!" laughed the Italian. "I been here twenty minute, already."

"Where's your friend?"

"Up in the woods. We take this path here, and we find him."

The Italian took Jack Benson lightly by one arm, piloting the boy until he had turned him into the path. Then the foreigner stepped in advance, saying:

"We reach my friend, in minute."

Thus they proceeded for perhaps five hundred feet into the woods.

Presently a small light, looking as though it might be the glowing end of a cigar, appeared ahead.

"Ah, here is my friend," announced the guide. "Giacomo, here is the young captain."

"Hush! Not too loud," came the soft warning from the man behind the cigar.

As Benson came up this second man held out a hand, which the submarine boy unsuspiciously took, at the same time looking over this second man.

He appeared, like the first, to be a laborer at the Melville yard.

"I hear you have some interesting word for me," began Benson. "I--oh, great Scott! How dare you?"

For, dropping his cigar from between his teeth, this second Italian, while still holding the boy's hand, gave his wrist a wrenching twist that forced Captain Jack over to the ground.

In a twinkling the guide fell upon him, too.

"What on earth does this mean!" demand Benson, freeing his right hand and doing all in his power to fight.

The spot was fearfully lonely. Captain Jack remembered, in a jiffy, all the gruesome tales he had heard about the dread doings of the Black Hand. Brave though he was, the young submarine expert felt suddenly cold and creepy, though he did not once think of giving up the fight.

"Now, be still you!" ordered the late guide, plaintively. "We not want to hurt you. But, if you make us--"

"Be still, behave, and you be all right," promised the other Italian, in a gruff appeal for reasonableness.

Though he tried to fight like a savage, Jack Benson soon found himself being yanked to his feet, while a stalwart laborer held him by either arm.

"You see, you can do nothing," advised the Italian who had thrown the boy. "You not want to get hurt? We no want hurt you, but if you be one big fool, then--!"

"What's the meaning of this rough game?" Jack demanded, hoa.r.s.ely.

"You be verra good, no make noise, come with us and wait little while, then you go loose bimeby. Make fight, and well--then we no can help!"

That statement, coupled with the sinister, menacing tone, was sufficiently clear. It didn't take the submarine boy more than a few seconds to realize that he was helpless, and that the most sensible thing to do would be to go along, provided no worse violence than had already been used were attempted.

"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 s.p.a.ce 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.

"Now, this is easy," smiled one of the pair, pointing to the darkness under the open trap.

"We have take ladder away, but you can drop. Not far."

Then, seeing a look of alarm flit across the boy's face, the fellow laughed, adding:

"No hurt. All right. See?"

He dropped a stone through the trapway. It fell on ground underneath, nor did the distance down appear to be more than a few feet.

"Cellar, that's all," grinned the Italian, rea.s.suringly. "Now, drop, and we not hurt you. No danger. In two, three, four hour we put down ladder and let you up. Keep you here little while; that's all."