"Hold on there!" cried another voice. "We've got you where we
want you, now! Hold on! Don't go!"
"I wasn't going to go," responded Tom calmly, trying to
recognize the voice, which seemed to be unnatural. "What do you
want, and who are you?"
"Never mind who we are. We want you and we've got you! Get off
that wheel!"
"I don't see why I should!" exclaimed Tom, and he suddenly
shifted his handle bars, so as to flash the bright headlight he
carried, upon the circle of dark figures that opposed his
progress. As the light flashed on them he was surprised to see
that all the figures wore masks over their faces.
Tom started. Was this the Happy Harry gang after him again? He
hoped not, yet the fact that the persons had on masks made the
hold-up have an ugly look. Once more Tom flashed the light on the
throng. There were exclamations of dismay.
"Douse that glim, somebody!" called a sharp voice, which Tom
could not recognize.
A stone came whizzing through the air, from some one in the
crowd. There was a smashing of glass as it hit the lantern, and
the road was plunged in darkness. Tom tried to throw one leg over
the saddle, and let down the supporting stand from the rear
wheel, so the motor-cycle would remain upright without him holding
it.
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