The stranger looked up with a startled expression, then jerked open the door and jumped down on the opposite side of the truck.
He made a dash for the wooded area, but Tom quickly caught up with him and grabbed him by the coat collar.
THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGERS
11
As the tall stranger spun around, Tom saw that he was gaunt and hollow-cheeked. His green eyes glittered with hatred. One hand whipped inside his coat and came out again clutching a snub-nosed blue-steel automatic.
Tom had seen the move in time. With his left hand he grabbed the man’s wrist. The stranger tried desperately to wrench his gun hand free.
For a moment the two struggled furiously. Tom, 12 TOM SWIFT AND HIS ATOMIC BLASTER
though not so tall as his opponent, had the wiry, muscular strength of a well-trained American athlete. He twisted the man’s wrist farther and farther until he gasped in pain and dropped the weapon to the ground.
“Now you’re going to tell me what this is all about!” Tom shouted angrily.
“And then I’m-”
His words were choked off as he was grabbed from behind. Turning his head, he saw that his assailants were two rough-looking men.
Tom fought desperately, but resistance was futile. Each man held one of his arms tightly.
“What’ll we do with him?” one of the captors asked, breathing hard from the effort to hold the prisoner still. The other man had clamped one hand over Tom’s mouth, so that he could not call for help.
“I think I noticed some rope in the truck,” replied the gunman in a deep voice that had a foreign accent. “Hold him while I get it. Then tie him to that tree.”