"Then I shall manhandle you, truss you up like a fowl in the tonneau
of your car, and gag you."

To Bryce's infinite surprise the Colonel smiled. "Oh, very well!" he
replied. "I guess you've got the bulge on me, young man. Do you mind
if I sit in the warm cab of my own engine? I came away in such a
hurry I quite forgot my overcoat."

"Not at all. I'll sit up there and keep you company."

Half an hour passed. An automobile came slowly up Water Street and
paused half a block away, evidently reconnoitering the situation.
Instantly the Colonel thrust his head out the cab window.

"Sexton!" he shouted. "Cardigan's cutting in a crossing. He's holding
me here against my will. Get the mill-crew together and phone for
Rondeau and his woods-crew. Send the switch-engine and a couple of
flats up for them. Phone Poundstone. Tell him to have the chief of
police--"

Bryce Cardigan's great hand closed over the Colonel's neck, while
down Water Street a dark streak that was Buck Ogilvy sped toward the
automobile, intending to climb in and make Pennington's manager a
prisoner also. He was too late, however. Sexton swung his car and
departed at full speed down Water Street, leaving the disappointed
Buck to return panting to the scene of operations.

Bryce Cardigan released his hold on Pennington's neck. "You win,
Colonel," he announced. "No good can come of holding you here any