"We have a comfortable place provided," answered Luke. "Mr. Mason, if you will give your assistance, we will show our guest where we propose to put him." "Unbind me, and I will save you the trouble." "No doubt, but there are some objections to that." The outlaw was lifted from the wagon and carried up stairs 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 shake-down," 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 simply 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. He ate his dinner with evident relish, and left nothing on the plate. 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." I was well that he did so, for John Fox, if there had been the least chance of success, would have overpowered the farmer and effected his escape. But with the eye of Luke Robbins upon him, and the pistol in his hand ready to go off at an instant's notice, there was nothing to do but to submit to being rebound. CHAPTER XII. THE OUTLAW'S ESCAPE.