The effect of all this was to leave Nick unconscious for several hours, how many he hardly knew when he finally revived. He found himself lying on the floor of a stall in a miserable stable, bound hand and foot in a way that precluded liberating himself. He was sore, stiff, and scarce able to stir, but he could use his eyes and ears, and his brain soon became cleared of the cobwebs. He could hear the movements of horses in the near stalls. He could see the sunlight through chinks in the walls of the old building. He knew that day had dawned, if not already well spent, for the early songs of birds in the trees through which he could hear the sweep of the wind had ceased, and he reasoned that the morning was far advanced. All this was confirmed a little later, when the steps of approaching men fell upon his ears, and the broad door of the stable swung open on its rusty hinges. A blaze of sunlight was shed into the dismal building. Two men strode in and around to the stall in which the detective was lying. They were Sol Mauler, who had impersonated Cady, and his brother—Zeke Mauler. Why they dwelt alone in that desolate region and how they earned their living was a mystery to many, but there were hints at moonshine whisky. “I reckon he’s still in dreamland, Zeke,” Sol Mauler was saying, when they approached. “He was hardly breathing half an hour ago, when I fed the nags. Mebbe he’ll croak on our hands and save us the trouble of—no, blast him! here he is with eyes wide open. His head’s like a hickory nut. So you’re not going to croak without help, eh?” The last was added when the two ruffians appeared in the entrance to the stall, both halting to glare down at the prostrate detective. Nick Carter gazed up at them, pale and bruised, but his eyes had lost none of their confidence and severe austerity. “It’s no fault of yours, Mauler, that I am still in the land of the living,” he sternly answered. “You bet it ain’t,” growled Sol, with expressive nods. “You’d have been done brown and planted deep, barring a kick came from one we have to hear to. He ain’t taking chances of a rope. The coin is all he’s out for.” “We’ve got it, too,” put in Zeke, with a villainous leer. “We got it in spite of you.” “Make sure you hang onto it, then,” Nick coldly advised. “You can bet your boots on that. We’ll soon have it planted where no infernal New York dick will find it.” “Don’t be so sure of it. You may slip a cog.” “No slips for us,” said Sol confidently. “You ought to know that, Carter.” “I’m not telling all I know.” “They did a fat job who brought you down here to corral us fellows,” Mauler went on derisively. “We’re too slick for any city guy of your cut. Why, I near laughed in your ugly mug, when you boarded that express car and shoved a letter from Burdick under my nose.” “You did, eh?”