It didn't take the submarine boy more than a few
seconds to realize that he was helpless, and that the most sensible
thing to do would be to go along, provided no worse violence than had
already been used were attempted.
"Where do you want me to go?" he asked.
"Oh, we show you," replied the late guide, in a tone half implying that
he stood ready to do his young captive a great favor.
There appeared to be no help for it. Grim faced, and with teeth tightly
clenched, Captain Jack allowed himself to be led on through the woods,
both his arms being still tightly held by his conductors. Had they
intended any more dastardly violence, he reasoned, they could easily have
carried out their purpose without having hauled him to his feet.
No more was said as the three tramped through the woods. Though the
Italians did not by any means relax their hold, they used no more force
than seemed necessary for their purpose. Indeed, they acted with that
smooth consideration typical of the Latin races, even in bad moments.
A tramp of a quarter of a mile brought them to a little clearing in the
woods. In the middle of the open space stood a building. As he got
closer young Benson saw that it was a dilapidated-looking structure that
for many years, probably, had not been a home.
The front door stood open, however, and to this the captors marched their
victim.
"Look out you do not trip over broken sill," admonished the late guide,
politely.
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