"These are no friends," he thought. "They are enemies and they intend to play me foul."
"How can I drink with my hands tied behind me?" he asked.
"We will hold the glass for you," said another, and Dick feit almost sure it was Gus Pender who uttered the words.
"It's the whole Flapp crowd," he mused. "I'm in a pickle and no mistake. I suppose they'll half kill me before they let me go."
"Will you drink?" asked another. He was small in size and Dick put him down as being Ben Hurdy.
"I want you to untie my hands."
"Very well, let the prisoner hold the glass," said Flapp.
"Thank you, Flapp."
"Who said I was Flapp?" growled the tall boy, in dismay.
"I say so."
"My name is Brown."
"All right then, Brown let it be," said Dick, not wanting to anger the bully too much.
The prisoner's hands were untied and a glass containing a dark-colored mixture was handed to him. Dick had heard of the "glass of poison" before, said glass containing nothing but mud and water well stirred up. But now he was sus-
