The Boy from the Ranch Part 25

Roy did not answer. He wanted to think out a plan of action. He was puzzled over the queer situation, and wondering who could have any object in keeping him a prisoner. He did not a.s.sociate Caleb Annister with it.

After the meal Wakely again adjusted the ropes about the boy on the bed, and Roy offered no objections. He was sure when the time came he could undo the bonds. For what Roy did not know about tying ropes, to hold anything from a bucking bronco to a wild steer, was not worth knowing. He was in a situation now where his life on the ranch was likely to stand him in good stead.

"You can go to sleep whenever you want to," said Wakely. "But remember--no tricks!"

Roy did not answer. He wanted to think, and he knew he could do it best in the dark. Presently Wakely turned off the gas, and withdrew, again locking the door.

It did not need much listening on Roy's part to show that the man had spoken the truth about the noises near the tenement. There sounded the whirr of dynamos, the puffing of steam, the rattle of coal and ashes down chutes--in short it would have taken a loud voice to make itself heard above the racket. A better place to keep a prisoner, in the midst of a great city, could not have been devised.

Nevertheless Roy did not give up hope. He resolved to attempt nothing that night. He wanted daylight to work by, and he felt that Wakely could not be with him all the while.

"But if I stay here more than a day or so there's going to be trouble,"

thought the boy. "Dad will write or telegraph me, in answer to my letter telling about Annister's game, and, if I can't answer him, he'll get worried. I wish I could understand what this is all about. Maybe they take me for another person. Well, I can't do anything now. I must try to sleep. That stuff he gave me makes my head ache. This shows how foolish I was to trust too much to strangers. When he got me to look around at that handkerchief he must have put something into my soda."

Thus musing, Roy fell into a doze. From that he pa.s.sed into a heavy sleep, and Wakely, peering in the door a little later, noted with satisfaction that his prisoner was deep in slumber.

"That's good," he whispered. "I can get some rest myself now. It's no joke--being on guard all the while. Some of the others of the gang have got to help out. I must send word to Baker. He's got to take his share."

Roy felt better the next morning, and ate with relish the breakfast Wakely brought in, though the meal was not a very good one.

A little while after this his captor went out, and Roy resolved to attempt to loosen his bonds. It was a hard task, for he could not work to advantage, but to his delight he found he could gradually undo some of the knots.

But he did not cast off the ropes. That was not his plan. As long as he knew he could loosen them at will, he decided to remain as though bound. This would make Wakely think he was in no position to escape, and the man would not keep such close watch.

Soon after this voices were heard in the outer room, and Roy knew some one was with his guard. They did not come into the apartment, and the boy saw nothing of any one until, at noon, more food was brought to him. He deemed it inadvisable to attempt to escape now, and resolved to wait another day.

Night came, supper was brought, and again Roy was locked in. He was beginning to be very uncomfortable, lying in bed so long.

"I'll slip out the first chance I get to-morrow," he thought. "Right after breakfast will be a good time."

Fortune favored him. Soon after Wakely had brought in the morning meal, he went out, locking the door after him. Roy heard another door close, and guessed rightly that his captor had left the building.

"Now's my chance!" thought the boy.

Putting into operation his knowledge of ropes and knots, and, by using his strength, which was not small, he managed to loosen his bonds. In a few minutes he was standing in the middle of the room free.

"Now for the door!" Roy murmured. "I wonder if I can break it open, or work the lock?"

A moment's inspection served to show him that to open the portal was out of the question. The lock was a heavy one. The door itself was solid, not one with panels, and, after trying it cautiously, for Roy did not want to make a noise, he decided he could not escape that way.

There was only one other means,--the window. He went to it and looked out. It was fully sixty feet from the ground, and there was nothing, in the shape of a lightning rod, or a rain-pipe leader to cling to.

Nothing but the bare tenement house wall, broken here and there with other windows.

Roy leaned far out. He knew it was useless to shout, as the noise from the electric shop drowned all other sound. Nor could he see any one whose attention he might attract.

It was necessary for him that he work quickly, for Wakely, or one of his friends, might return any moment. Yet how could Roy get out of the window and to the ground?

He looked about the room for something to aid him. His first thought was of the bed clothes. He had read of persons tying sheets together, after tearing them into strips, and so making a rope. But there were no sheets on his bed, merely a small blanket, for it was warm weather.

There was nothing in the shape of a rope in the room. It looked as if Roy would have to remain a prisoner.

Suddenly an idea came to him as he looked at his large valise which, with his trunk, had been brought to his room.

"I have it!" he exclaimed. "My la.s.so! It's long enough!"

It did not take a minute to get it from the valise. It was a long thin lariat, strong enough to support several pounds, and he knew it would reach over a hundred feet.

"Lucky I thought to bring that with me," he said, "though Billy Carew laughed at me, and asked if I expected to rope any steers in the streets of New York. I guess he didn't figure on this."

It did not take Roy two minutes to fasten one end of the lariat to the bed, which was the heaviest article in the room. Then he tossed the other end out of the window, noting that it touched the ground, with several feet to spare.

"Now for it!" murmured the boy. "It's a dangerous climb, to go down hand over hand, but I think I can slide it!"

Testing the la.s.so to make sure it was securely fastened, he put one leg over the window sill, grasped the lariat with both hands, and swung himself off.

As he did so he heard the door of his room open, and some one rushed in. There was a cry of alarm.

"That's Wakely," reasoned Roy. "He's discovered that I'm gone."

An instant later the face of Wakely appeared at the window. He shouted to Roy:

"Come back here!"

"Not much!"

"Then I'll cut the rope!"

Wakely drew out his knife, but, before he had a chance to use it he was pulled back, and the face of Mortimer De Royster replaced that of Roy's late captor.

CHAPTER XXII

GETTING A CLUE

Roy was so astonished at the sight of his friend, the jewelry salesman, peering out of the window that he nearly let go his hold of the rope.

He recovered himself quickly, however, and slid on toward the ground.

As he looked up at the cas.e.m.e.nt he could see that De Royster and Wakely were having some kind of a struggle.

"I must go back and help him," thought Roy. "Mr. De Royster is no match for that fellow. I'd like to tackle him on my own account, though he was not cruel to me while he had me a prisoner."

His determination to do this was increased when his friend leaned out of the window, and called:

"Come on up, Roy! Help me!"

"He's plucky to tackle that fellow alone," thought the boy from the ranch.

But now he had no time for musings. He must act. As he let go the rope, his feet having touched the ground, he found himself in the not very clean yard of the tenement.