A BLINDING FLASH
Stumbling on through the dark woods, led by his captors, Tom tried to pierce the gloom and identify the persons who had firm grips on either side of him.But it was useless.A little light sifted down from the starlit sky above, but it was not sufficient.The young inventor was beginning to think, after all, that he had fallen into the hands of the Happy Harry gang, and he knew that if this was so he need expect no mercy.
But two things were against this belief.One was that the principal members of the gang were still in jail, or at least they were supposed to be, and another was that there were too many of the captors.Happy Harry's crowd never numbered so many.
"Maybe they're highwaymen," thought our hero, as he was dragged along "But that can't be," he reasoned further."If they wanted to rob me they'd have done it back there in the road, and not brought me off here in the woods.Besides, I haven't anything for them to steal."Suddenly Tom stumbled over a projecting root, and nearly fell, dragging along with him the person who had hold of his left arm.
"Look out there! What's the matter with you?" exclaimed one of the throng quickly, and at the sound of the voice Tom started.
"Andy Foger!" cried the young inventor, as he recovered himself, for he had recognized the voice of the red-haired bully."What do you mean by holding me up in this way?" he demanded.
"Quiet!" urged a voice in his ear, and the tones were unfamiliar."Mention no names!""I'm on to your game!" retorted Tom."I know you're here, Andy, and Sam and Pete; and Jack Reynolds and Sid Holton," and he named two rather loose-charactered lads, who were often in the company of Andy and his cronies."You'd better quit this nonsense," Tom went on."I'll cause the arrest of all of you if you make trouble for me.I know who you are now!""You think you do," answered the voice in his ear, and the young inventor concluded that it must be some lad whom he did not know."Noris this nonsense," the other went on."You are about to receive the punishment due you."Our hero did not answer, but he was doing some hard thinking.He wondered why Andy and his crowd had captured him.
Suddenly the blackness of the woods was illuminated by the fitful gleam of a distant fire.Tom could see more plainly now, and he managed to count about ten dusky figures hurrying along, four being close to him, to prevent his escape, and the others running on ahead.The light became stronger, and, a moment later the prisoner and his captors emerged into a little clearing, where a fire was burning.Two figures, masked with black cloth, as were all in the crowd, stood about the blaze, putting on sticks of wood.
"Did you get him?" asked one of these figures eagerly.
"Yes, they got me, Sam Snedecker," answered Tom quickly, recognizing Sam's tones."And they'll wish they hadn't before I'm done with them.""Quiet!" ordered an unknown voice."Members of the Deep Forest Throng, the prisoner is here!" the lad went on.
"'Tis well, bind the captive to the sacrificial tree," was the response from some one in the crowd.
Tom laughed.He was at ease now, for he recognized that those who had taken him prisoner were all lads of Andy's character.Most of them were Shopton youths, but some, evidently, were strangers in town.Tom felt he had little to fear.
"Bring him over here," ordered one, and Tom cried out:
"You wouldn't be giving those orders, Andy Foger, if my arms weren't tied.And if you'll untie me, I'll fight any two of you at once," offered the young inventor fiercely, for he hated the humiliation to which he was being subjected.
"Don't do it! Don't untie him!" begged some one.
"No danger, they won't.They're afraid to, Pete Bailey," replied Tom quickly, for he had recognized the voice of the other one of Andy's particular cronies.
"Aw, he knows who we are," whispered Sam, but not so low but thatour hero heard him.
"No matter," was Andy's retort."Let's go ahead with it.Tie him to that tree."It was useless for Tom to struggle.He was bound too tightly by the rope, and the crowd was too many for him.In a few minutes he was securely fastened to a tree, not far from the camp-fire, which was replenished from time to time.
"Now for the judgment!" called one of the masked lads, in what he meant to be a sepulchral tone."What is the charge against the prisoner? Brother Number One of the Deep Forest Throng, what is your accusation?""He's a regular snob, that's what's the trouble," answered Andy Foger, though whether he was "Brother Number One," did not appear."He's too fresh and--and--""I'll make you wish you felt fresh when I get hold of you, Andy," murmured Tom.
"Quiet!" cried a tall lad."What's the next charge?""He keeps an old colored man on guard at his place," was the answer, and Tom had no difficulty in recognizing the voice of Sid Holton."The coon throws whitewash all over us.I got some of it.""You wouldn't have, if you'd minded your own business," retorted Tom."It served you right!""What is the verdict on the prisoner?" asked one who seemed to be the leader.
"I say let's tar and feather him!" cried Andy suddenly."There's a barrel of tar back in the woods here, and we can get some feathers from a chicken coop.That would make him so he wouldn't be so uppish, I guess!""That's right! Tar and feathers!" exclaimed several.
