“That’s enough!” snapped the angry man. “You may not realize that you are in my power, and that you’re up here in a lonely part of the woods, away from your friends. They don’t know where you are, and you don’t know where they are. They can’t help you. Those two men of mine will do as I say, and----” “Oh, I’ve no doubt but that you’ve trained them well in your own class of scoundrelism,” said Tom, coolly. “Silence!” fairly shouted the infuriated man. Tom ceased his talk because he chose, not because he was afraid. Professor Skeel hesitated a moment, and then drew from his pocket some papers. Tom was at a loss to guess what they might be. In fact, he had but a dim idea why he had been captured and brought to the hut in the wilderness. Some things the two men--Murker and Whalen--let fall, however, gave him an inkling of what was to come. So he did not show any great surprise when Professor Skeel, handing him a paper, said: “That’s a copy of a letter I want you to write to your father. Copy it, sign it in your natural hand, without any changes whatever, or without making any secret signs on the paper, and give it back to me. When I get the right kind of an answer back, I’ll let you go--not before. Write that letter to your father!” There was a veiled threat implied in the insolent command. Professor Skeel held the letter out in front of Tom. The latter could not take it, of course, for his hands were tied. “Oh!” exclaimed the plotter, as though he had just wakened to this fact. “Well, I’ll loosen your hands for you, but you must promise not to fight. Not that I’m afraid of you, for I can master you, but I don’t want to hurt you, physically, if I can help it.” Tom did not altogether agree with the professor that he would be the master if it came to an encounter. For our hero was a vigorous lad, he played football and baseball, and his muscles were ready for instant call. True, he was tired from lack of rest and the hardships he had gone through, but he was not at all afraid of a “scrap,” as he afterward put it. So, then, when Professor Skeel made the remark about the bonds, Tom was ready for what came next. “I’ll loosen those ropes, so you can copy this letter, if you’ll promise not to attack me,” went on Skeel. “I’ll promise nothing!” exclaimed Tom, defiantly. “All right. Then I’ll have to call in my helpers to stand by,” grimly went on the former instructor. “They’ll take care of you if you cut up rough.” He went to the door, and called out: “Murker--Whalen! Come in. We may need you,” he added significantly. Tom steeled himself for what was to come. “Take off those ropes,” went on the professor, when his two mean men had come in. “Then, if he starts a row--let him have it!” The words were coarse and rough, and the man’s manner and tone even more so. “Are we to take off these ropes?” asked Murker. “Yes, and then stand by. I’m going to make him write this letter. That will bring the cash.”