“We must get on while the light lasts,” was my answer. “We shall be compelled to rest when the dark falls;” and the only time we slackened speed was when the nature of the road compelled us.
“I wish you would rest, Burgwan, if only for an hour,” said Mademoiselle as we were walking the horses up a hill.
“Not while the light lasts,” I replied. “The fretting impatience to get on would do me more harm than the rest would good. I am in little or no pain now. Tell me what happened after I was knocked over.”
“Karasch and Chris saved me. He says the man in the tent with you shouted some signal at which the two who were with him broke open the hut door. Chris flew at them, pinned one man by the throat, and the other who was close behind fell in the confusion.”
“Good Chris,” I exclaimed.
“Yes, indeed, good dog. Well, Karasch was on the watch and as the man was getting up and drawing his knife to attack Chris, Karasch rushed up and knocked him senseless with a gun.”
“Well played, Karasch. And then?”
“That was all, except that I had great difficulty in making Chris loose his hold. His fury was really awful to see. But he obeyed me, and Karasch and I together bound the men and made them prisoners; but both were badly hurt—especially the one Chris mauled.”
“But the third man?” I asked, perplexed.
“We found him shot in the tent, near you.”