United States or United Arab Emirates ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He never asked us a question, but clapped the handcuffs on our wrists, while the other fools held pistols to our heads." "It isn't my place to ask questions," retorted Stoliker doggedly. "You can tell all this to the colonel or the sheriff; if they let you go, I'll say nothing against it." Meanwhile, Yates had made his way into the kitchen, taking the precaution to shut the door after him.
Now, if you should want this pistol again, just watch where it alights." And Yates, taking the weapon by the muzzle, tossed it as far as he could into the field. Stoliker watched its flight intently, then, putting his hand into his pocket, he took out some small object and flung it as nearly as he could to the spot where the revolver fell.
Entering the barn, Yates forced the constable up against the square oaken post which was part of the framework of the building, and which formed one side of the perpendicular ladder that led to the top of the hay mow. "Now, Stoliker," he, said solemnly, "you realize, of course, that I don't want to hurt you yet you also realize that I must hurt you if you attempt any tricks.
"See here, Renny," whispered Yates; "you get back to the tent, and see that everything's all right. I'll be with you in an hour or so. Don't look so frightened. I won't hurt Stoliker. But I want to see this fight, and I won't get there if the colonel sends an escort. I'm going to use Stoliker as a shield when the bullets begin flying."
Nevertheless, Stoliker never took his hand from his revolver. Suddenly, with a greater lurch than usual, Yates pitched head first down the bank, carrying the constable with him. The steel band of the handcuff nipped the wrist of Stoliker, who, with an oath and a cry of pain, instinctively grasped the links between with his right hand, to save his wrist.
"Come on, you loitering idiot!" he cried to the constable, who had difficulty in keeping pace with him; "come on, or, by the gods! I'll break your wrist across a fence rail and tear this brutal iron from it." The savage face of the prisoner was transformed with the passion of war, and, for the first time that day, Stoliker quailed before the insane glare of his eyes.
"Seems as if I had been asleep for weeks. I'm the latest edition of Rip Van Winkle, and expect to find my mustache gray in the morning. I was dreaming sweetly of Stoliker when you fell over the bunk." "What have you done with him?" "I'm not wide enough awake to remember. I think I killed him, but wouldn't be sure. So many of my good resolutions go wrong that very likely he is alive at this moment.
Yates had released the girl, partly because she had wrenched herself away from him, and partly because he heard a movement in the dining room, and expected the entrance of Stoliker or some of the others. Miss Kitty stood with her back to the table, her eyes fixed on a spring flower, which she had unconsciously taken from a vase standing on the window-ledge.
"I wish you would hire a rig, constable. I'm tired of walking. I've been on my feet ever since three this morning." "I have no authority to hire a buggy." "But what do you do when a prisoner refuses to move?" "I make him move," said Stoliker shortly. "Ah, I see. That's a good plan, and saves bills at the livery stable."
It hasn't struck your luminous mind that you have not the first tittle of evidence against my friend, and that, even if I were the greatest criminal in America, the fact of his being with me is no crime. The truth is, Stoliker, that I wouldn't be in your shoes for a good many dollars. You talk a great deal about doing your duty, but you have exceeded it in the case of the professor.
Word Of The Day