True to Himself | Page 6

long drive to the station. When we arrived there, Mrs. Canby had over five minutes to spare, and this time was spent in buying a ticket and giving me final instructions.
At length the train came along and she was off. I waited a few moments longer and then drove away.
I had several purchases to make in the village-- a pruning-knife, a bag of feed, and some groceries, and these took some time to buy, so it was nearly noon when I started home.
Several times I imagined that a couple of the village young men noticed me very closely, but I paid no attention and went on my way, never dreaming of what was in store for me.
The road to the widow's house ran for half a mile or more through a heavy belt of timber land. We were jogging along at a fair pace, and I was looking over a newspaper I had picked up on the station platform. Suddenly some one sprang out from the bushes and seized Jerry by the bridle.
Astonished and alarmed, I sprang up to see what was the matter. As I did so I received a stinging blow on the side of the head, and the next instant was dragged rudely from the carriage.
CHAPTER III
THE MODELS
I had been taken completely off my guard, but by instinct I tried to ward off my assailants. My effort was a useless one. In a trice I found myself on the ground, surrounded by half a dozen of the fastest young men to be found in Darbyville.
Prominent among them was Duncan Woodward, and I rightfully guessed that it was he who had organized the attack.
"Take it easy, Strong," exclaimed a fellow named Moran, "unless you want to be all broke up."
"What do you mean by treating me in this way?" I cried indignantly.
"You'll find out soon enough," said Phillips, another of the young men. "Come, stop your struggling."
"I'll do nothing of the kind. You have no right to molest me."
"Pooh!" sniffed Duncan. "The Models have a right to do anything."
"The Models?" I queried, in perplexity. "Who are they?"
"The Models are a band of young gentlemen organized for the purpose of social enjoyment and to teach cads lessons that they are not likely to forget," replied Moran.
"I suppose you are the members," I said, surveying the half-dozen.
"We have that honor," rejoined a boy named Barton, who had not yet spoken.
"And we intend to teach you a lesson," added Pultzer, a short, stout chap, whose father had once been a butcher.
"What for?"
"For your unwarranted attack upon our illustrious president."
"Your president? You mean Duncan?"
"Mr. Woodward, if you please," interrupted Duncan, loftily. "I won't have such a low-bred fellow as you calling me by my first name."
"I'm no lower bred than you are," I retorted.
"Come, none of that!"cried Moran. "We all know you well. We shall at once proceed to teach you a lesson."
I could not help smile-- the whole affair seemed so ridiculous that had it not been for the rough handling I had received when pulled from the carriage, I would have considered it a joke.
"You'll find it no laughing matter," said Duncan, savagely, angry, no doubt, because I did not show more signs of fear. "Just wait till we are through with you. You'll grin on the other side of your face."
"What do you intend to do with me?"
"You'll see soon enough."
I began to think the affair might be more serious than I had imagined. Six to one was heavy odds, and who could tell what these wild fellows would not do?
"I want you to let me go at once," I said decidedly. "If you don't, it will be the worse for you."
"Not a bit of it. We intend that you shall remember this occasion as long as you live," returned Moran. "Come, march along with us."
"Where to?"
"Never mind. March!"
For reply I turned, and made a hasty jump for the carriage, intending to utilize Jerry in a bold dash for liberty. I had just placed my foot upon the step and called to the horse when Moran caught me by the jacket and dragged me to the ground.
"No you don't!" he ejaculated roughly.
"There, Dunc, catch hold of him; and you too, Ellery. We mustn't let him escape after we've watched two hours to catch him!"
In an instant, I was surrounded. Now that Duncan had his friends to back him he was brave enough and held my arm in a grip of iron.
"Any one bring a rope?" went on Moran.
"Here's one," replied Ellery Blake.
"Hand it over. We had better bind his hands."
Knowing that it would be folly to resist, I allowed them to do as Moran had advised. My wrists were knotted together behind my back, and then the cord was drawn tightly about my waist.
"Now march!"
"How about the horse and