They were as gentle as they could be, for the idea of hurting a
helpless man, even though he was a spy, went against the grain. But--
"We can't be too particular," said Harry. "And he brought it on himself.
I'm afraid he'll have worse than this to face later on."
They dumped him through the window, from which they had taken the boards.
Then they made their own way inside, and Harry began to truss up the
prisoner more scientifically. He understood the art of tying a man very
well indeed, for one of the games of his old scout patrol had involved
tying up one scout after another to see if they could free themselves. And
when he had done, he stepped back with a smile of satisfaction.
"I don't believe he'll get himself free very soon," he said. "He'll be
lucky if that knock on the head keeps him unconscious for a long time,
because he'll wake up with a headache, and if he stays as he is, he won't
know how uncomfortable he is."
"Are we going to leave him like that, Harry?"
"We've got to, Dick. But he'll be all right. I am going to telephone to
Colonel Throckmorton and tell him to send here for him, but to do so at
night, and so that no one will notice. He won't starve or die of thirst. I
can easily manage to describe this place so that whoever the colonel sends
will find it. Come on!"
They went back to their cycles and rode on until they came to a place where
they could telephone.
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