A couple of men ran at him, and he knocked one galley west, but the other two got him and held him, and then one fellow who seemed to be bossing the job, came over and says, “Mr. Dunn, we don’t want to do you no harm personal, but we mean business. We’re going to hog-tie these two officers, and we’ll hog-tie you, if you get rambunctious.... Behave yourself, and you won’t get hurt.”
“Somebody’ll get hurt for this,” says Mr. Dunn.
“That’s the chance we take,” says the boss mutineer. “Now shall we tie you, or will you go back to your tent and keep quiet?” Then he squinted at Catty and me.
“Hiding under the tarp, was you? Tattlin’ on me and the boys, eh?... When we git time, we’ll tend to your case.”
With that a man grabbed each of us, and two went along with Mr. Dunn and chucked us into the tent. And there we were!
CHAPTER XVIII
By that time Mr. Dunn was just about four pounds madder than any man who ever lived to tell the tale. He swelled up like a balloon and shoved out his jaw, and just waded out of that tent with all his fists flying. Maybe he enjoyed it, but it wasn’t wise. No, sir. It got us all into trouble. The net result was that a couple of Swedes sat on his stomach, and they dragged him back in and tied him to the tent pole. And what was worse, they made a good job of it by tying Catty and me, too.
“Guess that settles you,” says the boss mutineer. “Didn’t know when you was well off, did you?”
“You’ll sweat for this,” says Mr. Dunn.
“I’m figgerin’ on warm weather and hard work,” says the boss mutineer. Then he went out after he stationed a guard by the door, and we three sat on the ground with our backs against the tent pole and thought it over.