He was about to
descend to the river bank when Anderson Crow came up.
"What's the matter, man?" panted he.
"They're down there, don't you see it? They went over the bluff right
here--come on. We've got 'em!"
"Hold on!" exclaimed Anderson, grasping his arm. "Don't rush down there
like a danged fool. If they're alive they can plug you full of bullets
in no time. Let's be careful."
"By thunder, you're right. You're a wise old owl, after all. I never
thought of that. Let's reconnoitre."
Tingling with excitement, the two oddly mated pursuers descended
stealthily by a roundabout way. They climbed over rocks and crept
through underbrush until finally they came to a clear spot not twenty
feet from where the great machine was lying, at the very edge of the
swift, deep current. They heard groans and faint cries, with now and
then a piteous oath. From their hiding place they counted the forms of
four men lying upon the rocks, as if dead. The two held a whispered
consultation of war, a plan of action resulting.
"Surrender!" shouted Jackie Blake, standing forth. He and Anderson had
their pistols levelled upon the prostrate robbers. For answer there were
louder groans, a fiercer oath or two and then a weak, pain-struck voice
came out to them:
"For God's sake, get this machine off my legs. I'm dying. Help! Help! We
surrender!"
Ten minutes later, the jubilant captors had released the miserable
Andrew Gregory from his position beneath the machine, and had
successfully bound the hands and feet of five half-unconscious men.
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