“What are you, an ostrich?” demanded Duval, with a slight smile.  “Think if you get your head out of sight you are safe?”

Hal made no reply, but he felt considerably more comfortable with his two automatics reposing safely at hand.

“Well, we might as well give the doomed a little bite to hold him up,” said Duval, with a smirk.  “You guard him now while I see what the pantry has to offer.  Keep him covered with your gun, for he is desperate and may jump you.”

“I’ll guard him, all right,” was the reply.

“Good!  Of course, it is easy enough to shoot him, but I would rather have him swim a while first.”

CHAPTER XXVIII.

FIGHT AND ESCAPE.

Duval returned a few moments later with sandwiches and milk, which he placed upon a table at one side of the room.  He drew up three chairs and motioned the other two to seats.  Then, with his revolver upon the table near him, he sat down himself.

“Don’t stand on ceremony,” he said to Hal.  “This will be your last meal on earth, so you may as well make the most of it.  Pitch in.”

“Thanks,” replied Hal, showing no sign of fear.

He picked up a sandwich and proceeded to eat it with apparent relish.

Light now filtered through a window at the far end of the room.  Duval glanced at his watch.

“Mon Dieu!” he exclaimed.  “I had no idea it was so late.”

“What time is it?” asked Hal calmly.

“I can’t see as it makes any difference to you,” said Duval, with an evil leer.  “You are not going any place.  However, I’ll tell you.  It is now just ten minutes past eight.”

Hal did not reply, and proceeded to finish his sandwich.

Finally, all the food having disappeared, Duval pushed back his chair and produced three cigars, one of which he offered to Hal and the other to his lieutenant.

“I don’t smoke,” said Hal; “thanks all the same.”

“Suit yourself,” replied Duval.  “However, you may as well make yourself comfortable while we enjoy our cigars.”

He puffed luxuriously, as did the other.

Hal also leaned back in his chair.  He chafed under this restraint, but he realized that it would be foolish to make an effort to escape under the very mouths of his two captors’ guns.  Nevertheless, he was ready to take advantage of the first opportunity that should offer itself.

But none came.

Duval and his lieutenant, having disposed of their cigars, arose.  The former, poking the muzzle of his revolver close to Hal’s head, said sharply: 

“Get up, now, and walk ahead of us.  No tricks!”

Hal did as ordered, and, with the Apache chief’s revolver prodding him in the back, left the room.  At a command he went down the stairs to the basement.

“Turn to the right,” instructed Duval.

Hal obeyed.  At the far end of the cellar they came to a little room.  Duval motioned Hal into it and followed himself, as did his lieutenant.  The latter now kept Hal covered, while Duval tapped the walls with the butt of his revolver.