"Don't get up. Just roll," ordered Fitz.
They rolled. He kept the muzzle right on them. Walt cut me free (his hands were shaking as bad as Bat's), and Bat cut the general free.
We stood up. But there wasn't time for congratulations, or anything like that. No. We must skip.
"Quick!" bade Fitz. "Tie their feet. My rope will do; it was a long one."
"How'd you get loose?" snarled Walt.
"None of your business," retorted Fitz.
We pulled on the knots hard—and they weren't any granny knots, either, that would work loose. We tied their feet, and then with a bowline noose tied their elbows behind their backs—which was quicker than tying their wrists. (Note 38.)
Fitz dropped the shotgun and grabbed his camera.
"You gave your parole," whined Bat.
"It's after twelve," answered the general.