but one of Joe's questions was answered. There were
other problems yet unsolved, though. What were they going to do with
him? He could only wait and learn.

The bandage was still over his eyes, and he tried, by wrinkling the
skin of his forehead, to work it loose. But he could not succeed. He
wished he could have some glimpse, even a faint one, in the darkness, of
where he was, though perhaps it would have done him little good.

"Take the oars now," directed Shalleg, after a pause. "I guess it's safe
to row out a bit. There aren't so many craft here now. But go easy."

"Hadn't we better show a light?" asked the man who had twisted Joe's
arm. "We might be run down!"

"Light nothing!" exclaimed Shalleg, who now spoke somewhat above a
whisper. "I don't want some police launch poking her nose up here. It's
light enough for us to see to get out of the way if anything comes
along. I'm not going to answer any hails."

"Oh, all right," was the answer.

Joe's head was beginning to clear itself from the fumes of the
chloroform, and he could think more clearly. He wondered more and more
what his fate was to be. Evidently the men were taking him somewhere in
a rowboat. But whether he was to be taken wherever they were going, in
this small craft, or whether it was being used to transport them to a
larger boat, he could not, of course, determine.

The men rowed on for some time in silence.

"It's getting late," ventured Wessel at length.

"Not late enough, though," growled Shalleg.

Joe went over, in his mind, all the events that had been crowded into
the last few hours. He had told Rad that he was going to see his
mother's friend in Camden, but had given no address.

"They won't know but what I'm staying there all night," he reasoned.
"And they won't start to search for me until some time to-morrow. When I
don't show up at the game they'll think it's queer, and I suppose
they'll fine me. I wouldn't mind that if they only come and find me. But
how can they do it? There isn't a clue they could follow, as far as I
know. Not one!"

He tried to think of some means by which he could be traced, and rescued
by his friends, but he could imagine none. No one who knew him had seen
him come down to the ferry, or walk through the deserted neighborhood.
And, as far as he knew, no one had seen the bearded stranger accost him.

"I'll just have disappeared--that's all," mused poor Joe, lying on the
hard and uncomfortable bottom of the