He stirred, opened his eyes, then sat up, looking dazed.
"Don't move or talk too much," advised the man with the shotgun.

As he spoke, he moved the muzzle close to Reade's face.
"Hello!" muttered Tom, blinking rather hard.
"Hello yourself.

That's talking enough for you to do," snapped the bully.
"Was that the thing you hit me over the head with at the finish ?" inquired the young engineer curiously.
"Careful! You're expected to think--not talk," leered his captor.

"If ye want something to think about ye can remember that I have fingers on both triggers of this gun." "I can see that much," Tom assented.

"Why do you think that it's necessary to keep that thing pointed at me?
Have you got me in a place where you feel that facilities for escaping are too great ?" The word "facilities" appeared too big for the mind of the bully to grasp.
"I don't know what ye're talkin' about," he grumbled.
"Neither do I," Tom admitted cheerily.