“Never,” replied Jan. “Like a man whose fader died in battle vor te sake of his dear faderland. Sit py unt see me tie. It vill pe a man’s deat!”
Jules assailed him with a storm of vituperation, to which Jan made no answer.
At this moment there came a great shout of surprise and anger, and they saw Ben Miffin running toward them at full speed with a hatchet in his hand. Jules caught up his rifle and began to load it hastily, but Ben was too quick for him, and he clubbed the weapon and stood upon his guard. But his defense was vain against the wiry old trapper, who broke down his guard and prostrated him by a blow on the head. Before a minute had passed, his arms were buckled behind him by means of a belt, and his legs served in the same way.
“Quick, Penn, quick!” shouted Jan.
“Keep cool, my boy! I’ll save ye yit,” cried Ben. “Keep yer arms clear of the mud.”
He whistled for his horse, which he had tied in the pass. A loud neigh answered him, and directly they heard the sound of hoofs. Diamond had broken his lariat and was coming at full speed. Catching sight of his master, he bounded to his side. Ben took the broken lariat from the saddle-bow and formed a slip-noose, which he threw to Jan.
“Put that under yer arms an’ draw it taut,” said Ben.
Jan obeyed. By this time Jules had recovered from the effects of the blow, and lay watching their movements anxiously. When the noose was under Jan’s arms, Ben instructed him how to pass a stick through it, so that it would not draw too tightly around his body. The loose end of the lariat he fastened to the saddle-bow. The horse stood quietly waiting, as if he comprehended fully what was expected of him.
“Be ready, Jan,” said the trapper, “an’ if the strain is too much, sing out. Now then, Diamond, pull!”
The horse did not jerk, but pulled steadily. Jan set his teeth, for the strain was fearful. For a moment he was stationary, then he felt his body rise a little from the clinging sand.