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FRANK MANLEY’S GREAT LINE-UP.
“It won’t be any joke, either—for you!” retorted: Win-
ston. “It’s gone too far already to turn out any joke.” .
’ “Now, you.two youngsters hold your tongues for an in-
stant,” went on the leader. “T’ll explain what’s wanted of
you. As for you,” looking at Jackets, “your aunts will have
to put up five thousand dollars for your safety.”
“Wow!” exploded Jackets, throwing back his head.
“Well, what makes you laugh?” came the growling query.
“Pm thinking how my aunts will look raising the money.
They, poor old souls, when all they have in the world is
the sixty dollars a month they get from a life insurance
company.”
This was a falsehood, but, under the circumstances, Jack-
ets felt justified in lying.
“Do you mean to tell me that they haven’t ‘got any |:
money?” demanded the leader.
’ “That’s what! Just their sixty dollars a month.”
“Oh, maybe they'll be able to find some other money
_ when they know it’s the price of your life.”
Though Jackets retained a sneer on his face, he felt very
serious inside.
He believed that his aunts would be able to raise the
. amount demanded.
And he was filled with secret anguish over the thought :
of their distress when they received the news.
“How much am I worth ¢ ?” demanded Wallie,. sarcas-
tically.
« “Oh, you’ re a good deal more valuable sort of a kid;”
came the. half-jaunty answer. “I?ll take forty” thousand
dollars to set you free.”
“I’m a slave for life, then!” sighed Wallie, i in pretended
despair.
“Oh, no; your father will raise the money. You see, we
took. the trouble to make sure before we went into this
thing.”
“Ti’s too bad you didn’t take the trouble to find out
dad’s views,” mocked young Egbert. “He'll spend his last
dollar hiring armed men to hunt you down.”
“Then he’ll never see his son again.”
“Dad won’t believe that,” retorted. Wallie.. “I’ve heard
him- say that kidnappers are cowards, who always weaken
when they see they can’t scare parents.” ,
“Till be different this time.” :
“But dad doesn’t know it, and won’t believe it. ‘And so
you’re up against the stone wall of failure!” Anished Wal-
lie, triumphantly.
At a sign from'the leader one of the men dragged for-
ward a table, on which were writing materials.
“Now,” went on their chief tormentor, “I’m going to
free the hands of one youngster at a time. I’m going to
make each of you write a letter to your folks asking them
to put up the money as quickly as possible.”
“Yl tell my aunts to pay no attention to the demand,”
retorted Winston.
“Oh, that’ll do as well,” came the cheerful answer. “Tell
show your folks that we’ve got you all right.”
“Oh, if that’s what you want us to write for,” promised
. “VI make you.”
'- ©¥ou can’t!
“Brag is a good dog, youngster.” , . ap
“Well,” defied Jackets, coolly, “ ‘you just go ahead and
make me write all you can.”
“Free his right hand,” ordered the leader.
the other to the rungs in the back of the chair.” /
The three understrappers obeyed... > | *
Jackets, after sizing up the odds, calmly decided that
it would be of no avail, hampered as he was, to iy tot use
his free hand in attack.
So he submitted, without a murmur, while the men
moved his chair to the table.
Then the leader nodded toward a pen, and ordered
. “Write something.”
“Not a word,” defied Jackets, firmly. ’
“Change his mind for him,” commanded the leader.
While one of the men held him, another pulled his hair
viciously.
Poor Jackets was obliged to wince and grimace with the
pain, but not a sound escaped his lips. :
~ “Will you write now?” came the query. |
‘No; and not after a year of torment, either!” .
“Give him some more,” came the order. —
This time Winston’s free arm was seized and. oruelly~
“Htandoutt
| twisted. It. was more than human nerves could endure, .
and he was forced to ery out in remonstrance.
“Good!” chuckled the leader, as he signed to the men
to stop. “Now, I guess you'll write something.”
“I am extremely sorry,” replied Winston, with mock
politeness, “but I can’t. You gentlemen have injured my
arm so that I shall not be able to use it in writing.”
“That arm will hurt worse if you don’t obey !”
“Oh, well,” sighed Jackets. “Go ahead and make it
hard. Put in force enough to wind me up. It'll be kinder
to kill me all at once.”
“Will.you write, then?”
“No more than I would before.”
At the signal the arm-twisting was begun again.
This time the twisting was so mercilessly done that the
little hero was forced to scream out in his agony.
“Now, will you write as ‘I want you to?”
“Neither now nor at any other time,” snapped young
Winston, between his clenched teeth.
Again the arm-twisting was repeated.
Suddenly the little athlete’s face went deathly white.
His head swam and he swayed as if about to faint.
“Let him go for a while, ”’ came the order. “See what
you can do with the other cub.”
But Jackets had not fainted, for. from between his blood-
less lips came the urgent appeal:
‘Don’t let ’em make you, Wallie!”
Wallie Egbert’s face was almost as white as if he had
been “seeing ghosts,” but he retorted:
“Don’t you be afraid of me, Jackets!”
“Good old Egbert!” cheered the other little hero, in the;
J ackets, thoughtfully, “I won’t write a blessed line!”
same unsteady voice.
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