"Careful! You're expected to think--not talk," leered his captor. "If
ye want something to think about ye can remember that I have fingers on
both triggers of this gun."

"I can see that much," Tom assented. "Why do you think that it's
necessary to keep that thing pointed at me? Have you got me in a place
where you feel that facilities for escaping are too great?"

The word "facilities" appeared too big for the mind of the bully to
grasp.

"I don't know what ye're talkin' about," he grumbled.

"Neither do I," Tom admitted cheerily. "My friend, I'm not going to
irritate you by pretending that I know more than you do. In fact, I
know less, for I have no idea what is about to happen to me here, and
that's something that you do know."

"No; I don't," glared his captor, "and I don't care what is going to
happen to you."

Back of the fringe between light and darkness steps were heard on the
cellar stairs. Then someone moved steadily forward until he came into
the light.

"Hello, Jim!" Tom called good-humoredly.

"Don't try to be too familiar with your betters, young man!" came the
stern reply.