CHAPTER XLIII
Jaws of Death
AWAKENING befell Mr. Barcus in a fashion sufficiently startling to render him indifferent to the beneficial effects of some eight hours of dreamless slumber.
He discovered himself lying flat on his face, with somebody's heavy hand purposefully grinding the said face into the planks of the shed flooring. At the same time other hands were busy binding his own together by the wrists, and lashing them to the small of his back by means of cord passed round his middle, while his natural efforts to kick were hampered by the fact that his ankles had already been secured.
His hands attended to, his head was released. Promptly he lifted it and essayed a yell, an effort rendered abortive by the gag that was thrust between his teeth the instant his jaws opened. After which—barring a gratuitous kick in the ribs—he was left to his own devices.
They were limited, in the beginning, to resting as he was and listening. Sounds of retreating footsteps were all that rewarded him. Then he heard a cold
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