"'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
that our 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.
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