" Then he mounted, and added, "Bute, I'm going
to untie your hands, and you must ride on ahead of me. I'll lead
Jack's horse."
In a moment he had his prisoners in the road, and was leaving the
mine at a sharp pace. Bute was so cowed and dazed with terror that
he obeyed mechanically. The stream was no longer a shallow brook,
but a raging torrent which almost swept them away as Brandt urged
them relentlessly through it. The tavern was dark and silent as
they passed quickly by it. Then Brandt took the gag from Bute's
mouth, and he groaned, cursed, and pleaded by turns. Hour after
hour he urged them forward, until at last Bute gave out and fell
forward on the pony's neck. Brandt dismounted and gave the
exhausted man a draught from his flask.
"Oh, shoot me and have done with it!" groaned Bute; "I'd rather be
shot than hanged anyhow."
"Couldn't think of it," replied the detective, cheerily. "My rule
is to take prisoners alive, so that they can have a fair trial and
be sure that they get justice. I'd take you the rest of the way in
a bed if I could, but if you can't sit up, I'll have to tie you
on.
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