Our hero's heart sank. He was not afraid, but he did not relish
the indignity that was proposed. He resolved to fight to the last
ounce of his strength against the masked lads.
"Can we get a kettle to heat the tar in?" asked some one.
"We'll find one," answered Sam Snedecker. "Come on, let's do
it. You'll look pretty, Tom Swift, when we're through with you,"
he exulted.
Tom did not answer, but there was fierce anger in his heart.
The tar and feather proposal seemed to meet with general favor.
"Members of the Deep Forest Throng, we will hold a
consultation," proposed the leader, in his assumed deep voice.
"Come over here, to one side. Brother Number Six, guard the
prisoner well."
"There ain't no need to," answered a lad who had been
instructed to mount guard over Tom. "He's tied so tight he can't
move. I want to hear what you say."
"Very well then," assented the leader, "But look to his
bonds."
The lad made a hasty examination of the ropes binding the young
inventor to the tree, and Tom was glad that the examination was a
hasty one. For he feared the guard might discover that one hand
had been worked nearly free. The young inventor had done this
while he leered at his captors.
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