Jack fought desperately, but as he was helpless, and in return for his
struggles received only a rain of brutal blows, he deemed it wiser to
remain quiet. Soon both he and the millionaire had their hands tied
behind their backs and gags of dirty grass were thrust, none too gently,
into their mouths.
“Now march, and behave yourselves or you’ll be shot,” snarled ‘Bully’
Broom, whose temper had not been improved by the blow Muldoon’s strong
fist had given him.
As it would have been folly to have resisted, situated as they were, the
two prisoners did as they were told. Jack wondered where they were being
taken and why they had been attacked. Even his acute mind did not
connect their captors with ‘Bully’ Broom and his gang. The boy thought
they had fallen into the hands of one of those bands of free-booters,
known to frequent parts of the bush, holding up helpless travelers.
He felt sorry for Mr. Jukes, though. The millionaire was stout and
accustomed to his ease. After his tiring day this night march must have
been cruel exertion to him. But if he lagged, the man of millions
received a vicious jab in the back with the stock of a rifle.
Even in this trouble, Jack could not help reflecting on the strange turn
of the wheel of fortune that had brought Jacob Jukes, man of millions,
into the heart of a lonely jungle, a shirt-sleeved, perspiring prisoner,
in the hands of a band of men of undoubtedly desperate character. He
wondered, too, if the millionaire himself was not contrasting this cruel
march through the forest with his magnificent town and country houses,
his automobiles, his lavishly furnished offices and his elaborate
entertainments. If he were doing so, Jack surmised that his thoughts
must be bitter. In thinking thus, Jack contrived largely to keep his
mind off his own misfortunes.
A journey of some hours, at the close of which Mr. Jukes began to give
every outward sign of deep physical exhaustion, brought them to a
clearing, once cultivated, but now neglected, overlooking the river.
Here, on a bluff about fifty feet above the water, in years gone by, a
trading company had maintained a post. It had been built in the days
when the natives were troublesome in that section and it was a strong
structure like a fort. It was almost overgrown with rank tropical vines,
but evidently the way to it was not unknown to the men conducting Mr.
Jukes and Jack.
Lanterns were lit and when the two captives had been ushered in both
were made fast to the logs that formed the walls of the place. Jack
glanced at Mr. Jukes. The millionaire was assuredly a pitiable-looking
object. His fine white shirt was torn almost to ribbons by thorny vines
encountered along the path, his carefully groomed appearance had given
way to a general disreputableness that would have gained him recognition
by any tramp as a member of the fraternity, his face was almost purple,
from his enforced exertions and the gag in his mouth.
“Gracious, he looks as if he might have apoplexy at any minute,” thought
Jack, who, although he was in as bad a plight, characteristically did
not spend any sympathy on himself. Perhaps the members of the band that
had captured them noticed what Jack had, and feared fatal consequences,
for Mr. Jukes’ gag was soon removed and so was Jack’s.
When this had been done, and before Mr. Jukes could recover his breath
enough to speak, the rascals withdrew to the other end of the building,
which was like a long mess hall and may indeed have been used at some
time as such.
“What does this outrage mean?” demanded Jack, as the black-bearded man
strolled off last of all, after looking them over with a cynical smile.
“You would like to know, eh, Jack Ready?”
“So you know my name?” exclaimed Jack in some surprise.
“Yes, and that of your companions who will join you here before long. We
hope to have the pleasure of your company for quite a long time.”
“You abominable ruffian,” cried Jack, overcome by indignation, “you will
pay dearly for this some time,” but at the same time the boy did not
believe that the rest had been caught napping and captured. They were a
strong party and, led by Muldoon, he knew they would put up a stiff
fight.
“I wish you had taken my warning, Mr. Jukes,” Jack could not help
saying, as soon as they were left alone.
“You wish it no more fervently than I do, my boy,” was the despondent
reply. “Wall Street and New York seem like a dream to me. Only this
horror is real.”
“I would like to know what it all means,” said Jack. “These men can’t be
just common robbers; they appear to have a regular hang-out here.”
“I can’t help thinking that I’ve seen some of these ruffians loitering
about Bomobori,” said Mr. Jukes.
“That struck me, too. At any rate they must be the party Thurman
wirelessed to me about as leaving just behind us. They’ve followed our
trail pretty closely, too. We should have been more on our guard.”
Slowly the hours wore by till daylight began to show in the narrow
windows of the old barracks. The positions of both prisoners were most
uncomfortable. The strain on their arms from the tightly tied cords was
almost unbearable.
“And to think I used to complain of discomfort if my chauffeur allowed
my car to bump over a rut,” groaned Mr. Jukes, with a comical pathos
that would have made Jack smile had they been in any other situation.
All the men had left the place, but they could hear the murmur of their
voices outside. A smell of wood smoke drifted in and then the
tantalising odors of frying bacon and the aroma of coffee combined to
remind both prisoners that, in spite of their sufferings, they were both
hungry and thirsty.
“I wonder if we are going to get any breakfast?” asked Jack, after a
silence broken only by Mr. Jukes’ pathetic groans.
“I’d risk a month of dyspepsia for a plate of beans and bacon right
now,” wailed the unhappy millionaire.
“Yes,” thought Jack. “There are decidedly situations where all the
millions in the world wouldn’t do you much good, and this, apparently,
is one of them.”
At last footsteps were heard approaching from the opposite end of the
ramshackle building.
“Somebody at last,” cried Jack.
He had hardly spoken when ‘Bully’ Broom stood before them, followed
by—Donald Judson.