The outlaw was lifted from the wagon and carried upstairs to the attic. His ankles as well as his wrists were securely tied, so that he was unable to walk. "Friend Fox," said Luke politely, "there is a bed and there is a shakedown," pointing to the blankets on the floor. "You can take your choice. I hope you will like your hotel." "I shall like it better if it provides refreshments," replied Fox. "I am famished." "I am sure Mrs. Mason will furnish you with a meal. I will speak to her." The outlaw seated himself on the bed and the cord about his wrists was loosened so that he might be able to eat. This might have been regarded as dangerous, as affording him an opportunity to escape, but for two reasons. In a chair opposite sat Luke Robbins with a revolver in his hand, watching his prisoner sharply. "If you make any attempt to escape," he said quietly, "I shall shoot. Now you understand and will be guided accordingly." In spite of his unpleasant situation the outlaw could not help admiring the coolness and resolution of his guard. "You would make a capital accession to my band," he remarked. "If that is meant for a compliment," said Luke dryly, "I thank you." "You had better think it over. Join my band and I will make it worth your while." He fixed his eyes earnestly upon his captor to see whether he had made any impression upon him. "When I start on any road," he said, "I like to know where it is coming out." "Well, this road will lead to wealth." "I don't read it that way." "How then?" "It will more likely lead to a violent death--or the gallows." "I have been on that path for ten years and I am alive and----" "A prisoner." "Yes, at present; but I can tell you this, my Quaker friend, that the tree has not yet grown that will furnish a gallows for John Fox." "Perhaps so, but I don't feel sure of it." The outlaw's predicament did not appear to interfere with his appetite. When he had completed his meal Luke called the farmer and requested him to tie his wrists again. "You can do it better than I," he said. "Besides, I shall need to stand guard." CHAPTER XII JOHN FOX FINDS A KNIFE The outlaw was left for several hours alone in the attic of the farmer's house. He felt far from comfortable, and he experienced great mortification at the thought that he had been captured by a Quaker. "I shall never hold up my head again--that is," he added after a pause, "unless I circumvent him and get away." Fox dragged himself to the window and looked out. "If only my brother knew where I was," he reflected, "he would soon turn the tables on those clodhoppers." But, as he knew, his brother was twenty miles away on a different expedition. John Fox was a man of expedients. In his long career as an outlaw he had more than once been "in a hole," but he had never failed by some means to extricate himself.