“Now get on yer feet, an’ be d——­ quick about it, too.”  It was Curly’s voice, and Reynolds knew that the villain was at the bottom of this affair.

He made no reply, however, but at once struggled to a standing position and looked around.  There appeared to be more than a dozen men, and by the dim light he recognized several.  They had been drinking, he could easily tell, and were in a quarrelsome mood, and wrangled with one another as to what they should do with their captive.  One was for stringing him up to a tree; another was for shooting him; while a third suggested that they should pitch him head first down one of the mining-shafts.  But Curly would not listen to these propositions, and gave orders that the prisoner should be taken up the creek in the direction of Crooked Trail.

“It’s safer there,” he told them, “an’ we don’t want our fun spoiled by the Police.”

“There’s none in camp to-night,” one explained.  “They’re all off on the trail.”

“An’ lucky fer us,” Curly replied.  “Anyway, let’s hustle an’ get out of this.”

Reynolds was immediately seized and hurried up the creek.  He tried to think and plan some way of escape.  He realised that the situation was serious, for with Curly, devilish and full of revenge, and at the head of a band of half-drunken men as reckless as himself, there was no knowing what he might do.  But he was determined to be game, and await further developments as calmly as possible.

As they moved forward he partly learned from the men’s conversation why they had waylaid him.  He found out that Curly had been filling his companions’ minds with gross lies, and now inflamed with impure whiskey they were willing tools in the hands of their revengeful leader.

CHAPTER XXVIII

HELP FROM THE HILLS

After they had stumbled on for about fifteen minutes Curly called a halt, and ordered the men to build a fire.

“This is as good a place as any,” he told them.  “No one will bother us here to-night, an’ that’s all we care.”

Cursing and grumbling in a maudlin manner, several of the men gathered a number of sticks, and soon a fire was started.  As the flames shot up Reynolds could see plainly the faces of his captors, and as he watched them his prospects did not seem very bright.  They were men as reckless as Curly himself, and being half drunk they had lost all sense of responsibility.  They did exactly what their leader commanded, notwithstanding their incessant complaints.  This was exactly what Curly wanted.  He had supplied them with liquor, but had taken little himself.

When the fire had been lighted, Reynolds was securely tied to a tree standing near.  The rope which bound him was drawn tight and caused him considerable pain, although he exhibited no outward sign.  But his heart was hot within him, especially when he looked upon Curly’s sneering and jubilant face.  If he could only be free for a few minutes he would attack the entire bunch, and revel in the fight.  But to be bound and helpless was most galling.