“Ah, here is my friend,” announced the guide.  “Giacomo, here is the young captain.”

“Hush!  Not too loud,” came the soft warning from the man behind the cigar.

As Benson came up this second man held out a hand, which the submarine boy unsuspiciously took, at the same time looking over this second man.  He appeared, like the first, to be a laborer at the Melville yard.

“I hear you have some interesting word for me,” began Benson.  “I—­oh, great Scott!  How dare you?”

For, dropping his cigar from between his teeth, this second Italian, while still holding the boy’s hand, gave his wrist a wrenching twist that forced Captain Jack over to the ground.

In a twinkling the guide fell upon him, too.

“What on earth does this mean!” demand Benson, freeing his right hand and doing all in his power to fight.

The spot was fearfully lonely.  Captain Jack remembered, in a jiffy, all the gruesome tales he had heard about the dread doings of the Black Hand.  Brave though he was, the young submarine expert felt suddenly cold and creepy, though he did not once think of giving up the fight.

“Now, be still you!” ordered the late guide, plaintively.  “We not want to hurt you.  But, if you make us—­”

“Be still, behave, and you be all right,” promised the other Italian, in a gruff appeal for reasonableness.

Though he tried to fight like a savage, Jack Benson soon found himself being yanked to his feet, while a stalwart laborer held him by either arm.

“You see, you can do nothing,” advised the Italian who had thrown the boy.  “You not want to get hurt?  We no want hurt you, but if you be one big fool, then—!”

“What’s the meaning of this rough game?” Jack demanded, hoarsely.

“You be verra good, no make noise, come with us and wait little while, then you go loose bimeby.  Make fight, and well—­then we no can help!”

That statement, coupled with the sinister, menacing tone, was sufficiently clear.  It didn’t take the submarine boy more than a few seconds to realize that he was helpless, and that the most sensible thing to do would be to go along, provided no worse violence than had already been used were attempted.

“Where do you want me to go?” he asked.

“Oh, we show you,” replied the late guide, in a tone half implying that he stood ready to do his young captive a great favor.

There appeared to be no help for it.  Grim faced, and with teeth tightly clenched, Captain Jack allowed himself to be led on through the woods, both his arms being still tightly held by his conductors.  Had they intended any more dastardly violence, he reasoned, they could easily have carried out their purpose without having hauled him to his feet.

No more was said as the three tramped through the woods.  Though the Italians did not by any means relax their hold, they used no more force than seemed necessary for their purpose.  Indeed, they acted with that smooth consideration typical of the Latin races, even in bad moments.