FRANK A PRISONER
Our hero quickened his steps a little. Then he made up his mind what he
would do. He fancied he knew what the presence of the men, Jem and Dan,
meant. He smiled to himself as he strolled along, carelessly now.
Sidelong glances enabled him to make out the movements of his trailers
without awakening their suspicions. He could observe that they had branched
off from one another, aiming at a clear space, where they planned to head
him off.
This is just what they did do. Frank anticipated their action as they
suddenly moved toward him. He was as cool as a cucumber, and halting hailed
them with a nod and a familiar:
"Hello!"
"Hello, yourself, youngster," returned Jem, looking Frank over keenly,
while his comrade stood as if ready to pounce upon the lonely boy in the
woods at a given signal. "One of the school fellows, aren't you?"
Frank nodded.
"Thought so. Let's see, your name is----"
"Oh, call me Brown for short," retorted Frank with a laugh.
"You can't fool me," declared Jem, coming nearer.
"What do you want to know my name for?" demanded Frank.
"I'm sort of curious, that's all. Say, you give us the initial, and I'll
bet we can guess at the rest of it."
"Think so? All right, what do you say to N, now?"
"I'd say Ned, right off the handle," piped in Dan.
"All right," laughed Frank. "Then you might take F for the last name."
"Foreman--Ned Foreman!" shouted Dan excitedly. "It's him, Jem. The light
suit of clothes that Brady told us about----"
"Shut up--the bag!"
Quick as lightning Dan drew something from his breast and sprang forward.
It was to slip a canvas bag over Frank's head. Then each of the men
pinioned an arm, and Frank was a prisoner.
This was just as Frank had calculated it would be done, and he was not in
the least worried. He figured it out that these men had been sent by Brady
to kidnap Ned Foreman. The light suit of clothes had deceived them, and his
own verbal parrying had aided in their accepting him as the boy they had
been hired to capture.
The bag hung loosely about Frank's head. It was perforated at the top, and
he could breathe easily. He could not, however, see through the opaque
covering.
"Don't you make any noise now, if you're wise," ordered Jem.
"I'm not doing it, am I?" propounded Frank coolly in a muffled tone.
"Better not," said Dan. "I've got a heavy stick here, and I'd use it pretty
quick."
"Who are you, anyway, and what do you want of me?" asked Frank.
"Well, lad," answered Jem, "we're going to take you on a little journey. It
will take all night to do it, and we'll make you as comfortable as we can,
if you behave nicely. There's a real fine man you are to see. If you do as
he wants you to do, you won't be five minutes with him, and you'll leave
him with good pay for all the trouble we're putting you to."
"That's fair enough; I'm agreeable," said Frank.
"He's easy enough to handle," Frank heard Jem tell Dan.
"Maybe that's all put on," suggested the other. "Don't take any risks.
You'd better leave him with me when you get to the creek, and hurry on to
Middletown and get the horse and wagon."
Frank knew that Middletown was a small village not far from Bellwood. After
they had proceeded a little farther there was a halt. Dan made our hero sit
down on the grass and kept hold of his arm. The man Jem seemed to go away
somewhere.
It must have been nearly half an hour when Frank caught the echo of
rumbling wheels. Then there was a whistle as an approaching vehicle halted.
"Come on," said Dan, helping him to his feet. "We'll take a little ride."
"Anything for a change," laughed Frank. "What are you fellows up to,
anyhow?"
"You're pretty cheerful for a boy in the dark," observed Dan.
"Oh, that's all right--I'm thinking of that good pay you were talking
about."
"You're a sensible young fellow," commented Dan. "Don't you worry a bit.
You'll fare all right if you last through as you've begun. But if you
don't, then most everything fierce is likely to happen to you."
Frank was lifted into a wagon. Its back hinged out, and it was closed again
by Jem as Dan got into the vehicle after his prisoner. Frank dropped to a
pile of old blankets. Then Dan lifted the bag from his head.
"Don't try to see any further than the law allows," he remarked, "and it's
all right."
There was nothing to see, Frank found, but the sides, back and roof of a
shut-in delivery wagon. The driver's seat was obscured by a water-proof
blanket that came within a foot of the top of the wagon, leaving a small
space through which light and air might come.
"All right in there?" sang out Jem, and the vehicle started up.
"You can sleep or loaf, any way you like," said Dan. "If you get hungry or
thirsty we'll stop at some tavern and get you some food and something to
drink."
"I'm comfortable," declared Frank. "Say, look here, we've got quite
friendly. Maybe I can ask you a question or two."
"Ask away, youngster," directed Dan.
"Of course I guess what you are up to, or rather who put you up to it,"
said Frank.
"You wouldn't be Ned Foreman if you didn't," chuckled Dan.
"All right. Give me a guess, will you?"
"For certain."
"You're taking--me to see a man for five minutes, you said?"
"Yes, that's so."
"I'll bet you I know his name."
"Well, what is it?"
"Tim Brady."
"You've hit it wrong, youngster," declared the man Dan in apparent good
faith; "it's not Tim Brady."