MUTINY AND A MESMERIST.
"You noisy fool, Wright!" he said, still holding me in his iron grip. "I heard you ranting in the street outside." Then, "Am I hurting you, Mr. Rissler?" he asked.
Foolishly I opened my mouth to reply, but hardly had I done so before a handkerchief was thrust between my lips, and stuffed the next instant half-way down my throat.
"Now, Wright," he said, "you can tie his hands and feet while I hold him. Do it so that the knot won't give, but carefully, so as not to hurt him. Come along, my good man! You are very slow! Do as I bid you, and be quick about it!"
Somewhat to my surprise, and more so, evidently, to the Dumpling's, Wright refused point-blank.
"I won't," he said, not budging from where he stood. "The gentleman's been kind to me and mine, and lift a hand against him I won't."
"Do as I bid you!" was the answer, in a voice that was almost a hiss.
"I won't," was the dogged reply.
The next jiffey I was lifted off my feet by the Dumpling's powerful arms, and, before I knew what he was about, I was lying upon my back on the floor, bewildered but unharmed.
Putting a knee upon my chest, and holding me down meanwhile with both hands, he raised his head and looked Wright straight in the eyes.