I now know you are alone.
Ned, can you cut down a couple of saplings?"
"Where do you want to carry him?"
"Down to the fork."
"Then let's drag him. Dragging is good enough for that ruffian---too
good for him. He ought to be shot, then rolled down the hill."
"Don't be bloodthirsty. Prisoners of war should be treated with the
utmost courtesy and consideration. I guess perhaps we had better not
take the time to make a litter. We can carry him down to the fork.
Take hold of the feet. I'll take the heavier end. And you, fellow!
You will get along much better if you keep quiet. Remember, no yells
nor struggles, else I shall be obliged to put you to sleep as I did a
short time since. Do you understand?"
There was no reply to the question.
"All right. Pick him up, Ned," directed Tad.
"Are you going to take his rifle?"
"Yes, I guess perhaps it would be best. The rifle is good evidence,"
decided Butler.
Tad strapped the weapon to his own back. He did not bother to pick up
the revolver or the bowie knife. The rifle was the evidence that he
wanted to take with him. Then they gathered their prisoner up. He
proved a heavy burden, though fortunately the distance was short to
the fork where Tad had decided to carry the man. The fellow had
nothing to say, but the expression in his eyes made up for what his
lips did not utter. The two boys were glad enough when finally they
reached their destination and dropped their burden, though none too
gently at that.
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