Dexterously tripping Brick to the floor, he bound his ankles and wrists.

Then he dragged him across the room, and threw open the door of a small, low closet that was level with the floor.

"Do you see that?" he exclaimed. "It's not a very snug place, but it's where you'll stay until you consent to write those letters. And nothing to eat or drink, remember. If you choose to starve to death, it's your own lookout."

A moment later Brick was in the closet, and the door was jammed tightly shut.

The closet was of such small dimensions that Brick could not stretch his body out full length, nor could he sit upright. The floor was hard, and through the log-wall next to the open air came a cold and cutting wind.

His limbs were bound very tightly, and soon he suffered from cramp and shooting pains. But Brick had an obstinate nature, and the thought of yielding was extremely bitter.

Incredible as it may seem, he actually held out all that day, and all of the night that followed. He suffered untold pain, and the torments of hunger, thirst and cold. Morning dawned, and breakfast preparations echoed through the cabin. The closet door was opened a slight crack, and Bogle's voice asked.

"Have you had enough, youngster?"

"Yes," muttered Brick, sullenly.

"Will you write those letters?"

"Yes," in a reluctant tone.

The door opened wide, and Brick was pulled out into the warmth and comfort of the room.

The youth's bonds were cut, and his stiffened limbs were rubbed with brandy. Then he was seated at the table, and given a hot breakfast.

Raikes saw that he wanted for nothing, and even Bogle appeared to be in a rare good humor.

By the time the dishes were cleared away, Brick felt in good shape physically. But his sober and downcast face showed the keen humiliation of his defeat. When writing materials were brought out, he took pen and paper, and wrote at Bogle's dictation. Occasionally his eyes flashed, or his nostrils quivered. But not a word pa.s.sed his lips. Bogle read the two letters in approving silence. Then he handed them to Raikes, who put them in his breast pocket.

The matter was not again referred to. The day wore monotonously on.

Brick sat in a corner most of the time, looking miserable and unhappy.

His companions paid no attention to him, but whispered a good deal among themselves.

The weather had moderated, and rain had fallen during the night. About midday the sky cleared, and a strong wind sprang up. It grew bitterly cold out of doors, and a blazing fire was scarcely sufficient to keep the cabin comfortable. This seemed to give great satisfaction to Raikes and Bogle. Brick overheard a few low remarks, such as "start at daybreak," "hard crust on the snow," "no danger of discovery."

When night came, Brick went to sleep between his captors. The broad light of day awakened him. He was alone on the bed, and his wrists were manacled. Bogle was the only other occupant of the cabin. He stood before the stove, stirring the contents of a frying-pan.

CHAPTER XXVI.

AVAILABLE PRISONER.

We left Kyle Sparwick and his young companions eating supper in the mouth of the cavern. Blankets and a fire enabled them to spend the night there very comfortably. Certainly they were much better off than Brick in his cold and narrow closet.

The little party rose at the first streak of dawn. While Jerry prepared breakfast, Hamp and Sparwick took a lantern and went deep into the cavern. With a sharp hunting knife they carved off as much bear's meat as they thought they could carry. Several of the steaks were fried for breakfast, and the rest were packed on the sleds.

In little more than an hour after daybreak the party were on the march.

Through slushy snow and a drizzle of raw, misty rain, they tramped back to the clearing.

Two days had elapsed since Brick's abduction, and, of course, no traces were visible. Nor had Sparwick expected to find any. He merely used the spot as a starting point. Thence he led his companions northward, and during the morning they explored all sorts of secluded nooks in the vicinity of the lake sh.o.r.e.

At noonday, when the sky cleared and the bitter cold came on, they crossed Chesumcook, and conducted a rigorous search on the farther side. Here they met with no better success. About three o'clock Sparwick declared that most of the likely hiding-places had been looked into.

"It's queer what has become of the rascals," he said. "I'm inclined ter think they've struck south, so we'll try that tack next. No use in tryin' that direction," and he pointed his long arm eastward. "Over thar stretches a swamp fur miles an' miles. It's full of wild beasts, an' it ain't possible fur a man to go through it. I never heard of a hunter or trapper what was in the place. They're all afraid of it."

Jerry and Hamp did not dispute this, for they were familiar with the swamp's evil reputation.

The anxious searchers pushed on through a wild and rugged country until sundown. They were then, as nearly as they could judge, several miles southeast from the lower end of Chesumcook Lake.

They camped in a spruce thicket on the edge of a meadow. By means of a fire and a lean-to they defied the cold, and spent a fairly comfortable night.

Breakfast was prepared, and eaten amid a gloomy constraint. When the luggage was packed, Sparwick lit his pipe, and sat down on a log facing his companions.

"This is a queer business," he said. "I ain't denyin' that I've kinder lost my bearin's. We've sarched purty near every place whar them fellers would likely hev gone with the lad. It looks now as though they had struck out of the woods. There's a railroad settlement about twenty-five miles from here--a bit of a place called Kingman."

"But would they take Brick there with them?" asked Hamp.

Sparwick shook his head.

"It ain't likely they'd run such a risk."

"Then they must have murdered Brick," cried Jerry.

He rose to his feet in great excitement.

Sparwick neither denied nor affirmed the a.s.sertion. He drew hard at his pipe, and looked contemplatively across the meadow for nearly a minute of silence. Then an eager look flashed suddenly upon his face, and he held up one hand.

"Listen!" he whispered, hoa.r.s.ely. "Thar's someone comin' through the woods."

The boys p.r.i.c.ked up their ears and looked anxiously around. Yes, Sparwick was right. Behind the camp, and to the north of the spruce thicket, two sounds rose clearly on the crisp air, the slight patter of snowshoes and the rustling and snapping of bushes. The unknown traveler seemed to be heading directly toward the camp.

"It ain't a crowd of three," whispered Sparwick. "There's only one, from the sound. He don't know we're here, I reckon."

"Mebbe it's Brick," replied Jerry. "He might have escaped."

"Mebbe it ain't," observed Sparwick. "Nothin' like bein' on the safe side. Drop behind that log, you fellers, an' have your weapons ready."

The boys quickly obeyed. Sparwick threw a handful of snow on the dying embers of the fire. Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed a rifle, and threw himself down beside his companions.

From this safe cover they commanded a view of the edge of the spruce thicket in both directions. The brisk tread of snowshoes and the threshing of bushes came nearer and nearer. Now the thicket was seen to quiver a few feet to the left of the camp. An instant later, to the amazement of the hidden watchers, Silas Raikes stepped into view.

The man carried a rifle in one of his mittened hands. He paused on the edge of the meadow, and looked around. A gleam of surprise and fear flashed into his eyes as he noted the sleds, the lean-to, the charred embers of the fire. But it was too late to retreat. Sparwick's tall figure rose before him, and a rifle-barrel sloped into his face.

"Drop that weapon, Raikes. Drop it, or I'll put daylight through you."

The command rang sharp and clear.

Raikes made a step forward, still retaining his rifle.