He wanted to rest his throat from the strain, and he wanted to see how best to direct his voice in case he did feel like shouting. He had no doubt but what if he cried out for help now, the gag would be put back in his mouth. And that he did not want. He wanted to eat, and oh! how he did long for a drink of cold water. “Guess he isn’t going to yap,” murmured the man known as Murker. “So much the better,” said Skeel. “Now you can loosen those ropes on his legs. He can’t get away.” Tom wished, with all his heart, that they would loosen the bonds on his hands and arms, but he stubbornly resolved to stand the pain those cords gave him, rather than ask a favor of any of the trio of scoundrels. He simply could not endure his thirst and hunger any longer. He tried to speak--to ask at least for a glass of water, for the men could not be so altogether heartless as to refuse what they would give to a dumb beast. But Tom’s throat was so parched and dry that only a husky sound came forth. “Guess he wants to wet his whistle,” suggested Whalen. “Well, get him a drink then,” half-growled Skeel. “Then we’ll talk business.” Tom thought nothing ever tasted so good as that draught of water from the cracked teacup one of the men brought in from another room, and held up to his lips. It was better than nectar ever could be, he was sure. “How about a little grub?” asked Murker. “Oh, he could have it, I guess,” Skeel replied. “Guess they didn’t any of ’em have much. They were away from their camp all night, you say, and there wasn’t anything in the old shanty.” “That’s right,” assented Whalen. Then Tom realized that he and his companions had been spied upon, just as Jack had so strangely suspected. They had also been followed, it was evident, for the men knew of the movements of himself and his chums. “I meant grub for all of us,” went on Murker. “I’m a bit hungry myself, and it’s about time for dinner.” “All right--get what you want,” assented Skeel. “And give him some. One of you can sit by him, and take off the ropes while he eats. But watch him--he’s like a cat--quick!” Tom felt like smiling at this tribute to his prowess, but he refrained. It was no time for laughter. “I’ve got a bit of writing to do,” Skeel went on. “You fellows can eat if you like. I’ll take mine later.” “All right,” assented Whalen. “But what about--well, you know what I mean,” and he rubbed his fingers together to indicate money. “I’ll attend to that,” said Skeel, a bit stiffly. “You mind your own affairs!” “Oh, no offense!” said Whalen, quickly. “I only wanted to know.” “You’ll know soon enough,” was the retort, as the former teacher moved toward another room. “Well, I’m in on this too. Don’t forget that!” exclaimed Murker, and there seemed to be menace in his tones. “Oh, don’t bother me!” answered Skeel, apparently a bit irritated.