here!" the lad went on.

"'Tis well, bind the captive to the sacrificial tree," was the response
from some one in the crowd.

Tom laughed. He was at ease now, for he recognized that those who had
taken him prisoner were all lads of Andy's character. Most of them
were Shopton youths, but some, evidently, were strangers in town. Tom
felt he had little to fear.

"Bring him over here," ordered one, and Tom cried out:

"You wouldn't be giving those orders, Andy Foger, if my arms weren't
tied. And if you'll untie me, I'll fight any two of you at once,"
offered the young inventor fiercely, for he hated the humiliation to
which he was being subjected.

"Don't do it! Don't untie him!" begged some one.

"No danger, they won't. They're afraid to, Pete Bailey," replied Tom
quickly, for he had recognized the voice of the other one of Andy's
particular cronies.

"Aw, he knows who we are," whispered Sam, but not so low but that our
hero heard him.

"No matter," was Andy's retort. "Let's go ahead with it. Tie him to
that tree."

It was useless for Tom to struggle. He was bound too tightly by the
rope, and the crowd was too many for him. In a few minutes he was
securely fastened to a tree, not far from the camp-fire, which was
replenished from time to time.

"Now for the judgment!" called one of the masked lads, in what he meant
to be a sepulchral tone. "What is the charge against the prisoner?
Brother Number One of the Deep Forest Throng, what is your accusation?"

"He's a regular snob, that's what's the trouble," answered Andy
Foger, though whether he was "Brother Number One," did not appear.
"He's too fresh and--and--"

"I'll make you wish you felt fresh when I get hold of you, Andy,"
murmured Tom.

"Quiet!" cried a tall lad. "What's the next charge?"

"He keeps an old colored man on guard at his place," was the answer,
and Tom had no difficulty in recognizing the voice of Sid Holton. "The
coon throws whitewash all over us. I got some of it."

"You wouldn't have, if you'd minded your own business," retorted Tom.
"It served you right!"

"What is the verdict on the prisoner?" asked one who seemed to be the
leader.

"I say let's tar and feather him!" cried Andy suddenly. "There's a
barrel of tar back in the woods here, and we can get some feathers from
a chicken coop. That would make him so he wouldn't be so uppish, I
guess!"

"That's right! Tar and feathers!" exclaimed several.

Our hero's heart sank. He